Debrief Is A Verb
by ButtonMashr
Summary: Story three in the series - Season 1 A/U - Jughead is home! But how does reunification work when FP was never dad of the year? Debriefing had some hiccups? The media is in a feeding frenzy? Lying is complicated, and missteps could mean losing the 'deal' that brought him home. When life happens, sometimes there is no margin for error.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the third story in a series, coming after "Beggars Can't Be Choosers" and "Attempted Witness Protection." Does it stand alone? I am pretty sure no, but feel free to find out if you are so inclined!**

**And hey, to anyone who was (justifiably) ready to scream at me when they saw the last chapter running out of words REALLY quickly in AWP... I couldn't leave you hanging. You are welcome. ;)**** The scene after the very short Prologue is the one I mention at the end of AWP that does double duty as an Epilogue to that story and a start to this story.**

**Enjoy! **

**-Button**

**P.S. For anyone who is unfamiliar with the term: Debriefing is a word used in a variety of contexts, including for military POWs and civilians who have been abducted. It's a time set aside shortly after the event/mission/whatever ends, and it is meant to do two things: gather information about what just happened, and to jump-start the recovery/reintegration process. **

**Debriefing also (colloquially) refers to processing an event in a less formal context, and in the field of Psychology it (more or less) means "revealing and explaining deception after the fact."**

**This story is about all of that.**

**AND there's a plot. :-D **

**(please review, 'cuz I am in WAY over my head with this one...)**

**Prologue:**

He'd been trained for this. Jughead could fight harder and stay alive for longer than anyone would expect just from looking at him, and he was entirely confident that he could buy himself precious time.

There was only one problem:

Brand wasn't coming for him this time.

Jughead could almost conjure the feeling he'd had with Brand that everything would be all right - that someone would always rescue him and the bad guys would never get away with this - and suddenly he longed for that innocence. Even false assurances meant comfort; comfort meant staving off the feelings of horrible realization and bone-deep terror.

But he had been trained for this, and so he was no longer naive. Jughead knew that without Brand, buying time only meant delaying - prolonging - the inevitable. And he was scared.

Jughead really wished he'd thought all of this through before he'd gotten himself into this mess.

**Chapter One:**

"What's one positive change you've seen over the last several weeks?"

"Well, he's spending time with that dog now." FP hated the mandatory counseling with a passion.

He tried to play along, though, since he'd already lost Jughead twice - first to Brandon, and then to the FBI for debriefing. Jeopardizing custody now was not an option.

"Let's talk about that. What's going better because of the dog?" The skinny man in the suit leaned forward with a saccharine sincerity that was unfortunately very real. Sincere counselors were far more likely than lazy ones to seriously consider the pros and cons of dismantling a family.

FP had grown to despise people who were 'just trying to help.' Even worse were the people 'looking out for the best interests' of anyone involved - especially Jughead's best interests. Those plans were somehow always based on massive disruptions to their tentative new routine, and invariably hinged on someone other than FP taking charge of parenting.

So he'd play along in counseling.

"He's got a friend. He gets out, and he's usually in a better mood after. Sometimes he's more interested in talking."

FP figured he should be grateful for that. The counselor who ran the mandatory session always encouraged gratitude, and FP had long since learned that was a useful buzzword to work into conversations in this office.

"How does that make you feel?"

"Grateful."

FP saw the counselor write an approving note. Cha-ching, one more hash mark in the keeping-custody column.

He just wished two things were different about Jughead's new companion: that it wasn't in training to be an attack dog, and that it wasn't owned by drug dealers. Two details that seemed conveniently to escape Jughead's notice despite his near-daily visits to collect the almost-full-grown German Shepherd from its worn patch of dirt and wave politely to the perplexed owners of house and dog.

FP wouldn't be sharing that in today's session.

"What would indicate growth and progress for Jonas in this area?"

Jughead's legal name was still screwed up. FP tried not to be more irritated about that than he should be - it was just a detail, and as soon as he figured out what had gone wrong in the paperwork this time around they'd have it fixed. Hopefully.

"I'd like it if he initiated conversation. With someone other than that dog, I mean," FP tried to keep his tone neutral.

They'd passed the house in the car one day and it was one of those rare moments when Jughead seemed to really notice something that was going on around him. He was suddenly staring out the passenger side window at the dog, nose practically pressed against the glass, and FP knew right away that this was something different.

And Lord knew, they needed something - anything - different.

The world's largest jury of his peers seemed to agree. FP found all of the counseling awkward and stilted, but he'd quickly come to the conclusion that going alone was the lesser evil. At least for these appointments he didn't end up sitting in a semi-private waiting area with Jughead, bracing himself because any people who happened to come by would know at a glance why they were there - because they recognized his boy from the news.

If it hadn't been something a kidnapper would do - had done - FP might have looked into dyeing Jughead's hair. Something.

They certainly could use the privacy and anonymity. Things had been all kinds of messed up with Jughead, pretty much from the word go. FP knew that his own contribution to that mess had begun when he climbed into that SUV to be reunited with his son, only to finding Jughead leaning into his kidnapper's embrace like _they_ were father and son - a visceral impression that was not helped by the discovery that Brandon legally was Jughead's guardian at that point in time. Fred had probably saved everyone's lives in the SUV that day with his calming presence and way with words.

It didn't help that everyone later responded like FP had been an idiot - as if he should have expected to find his son fully imprinted on his captor of six months. Apparently it was some twisted form of survival strategy, and hadn't FP _wanted_ survival for Jughead? (how exactly was he supposed to answer that?) The counselors' harsh judgment of FP's parenting flowed freely during those sessions.

It also didn't help that everyone bought Brandon's cover story. FP had learned quickly that he only sounded like a conspiracy nut when he expressed any doubts about 'Brandon Davies, special agent.' It had taken all of his self-mastery, but FP had finally seen clear to publicly sign on with the story that Brandon was certainly making real enough now - and Jughead seemed wholeheartedly to believe, in any event.

Even Fred, who had witnessed enough that this should smell more than moderately fishy, had accepted the flashy credentials that had suddenly been waved at everyone to magically make Jughead's kidnapping - indoctrination - torture into nothing more than 'the price of freedom.' FP had a bad taste in his mouth when it came to media catchphrases these days.

More mind-boggling still, the official story was that Jughead had sincerely believed himself to be a hostage, kidnappee, and forced participant in criminal activities. Yet he was often called an 'accidental hero' since Brandon claimed that he'd kept their undercover status a secret from Jughead for much of their time in Toronto - for his protection. Somehow nobody wanted to acknowledge that this version of events meant that fear and coercion had been Jughead's only reality.

Even the professionals missed that tiny detail, calling him a 'hybrid case' and vacillating back and forth between abduction protocols and military reintegration strategies.

FP could have lived with much of that - gotten over it - but the lack of information and details about what had actually happened might just do him in. He was most sickened by the vague outline of a story that he'd been given about Jughead's 'cover being blown' and 'Agent Davies' rescuing him after a single night of being brutalized by Jameson's people. That story would cover nicely for almost anything imaginable, over any conceivable timeframe, and it seemed particularly damning to FP that nearly every witness was now conveniently dead.

"He's talking though, right?" The sincerity was dangerously strong all of a sudden.

FP tried not react to that tone, but this question had all the earmarks of something that might be headed for the losing-custody column if he wasn't careful.

The counselors had tried to sell FP on debriefing as a silver bullet, if not a cure for all ills, and - they insisted - it would _not_ just be yet another abduction and forced separation, so FP should stop calling it that. Those counselors had been awfully confident: there had been high hopes and wild promises.

Debriefing hadn't fixed the troubling dynamic in the SUV, though. Nope; largely classified, the forced debrief with the FBI, agencies unknown, and psychologists for both military POWs and for civilian abductees had apparently had the sole, oh-so-helpful effect of crushing Jughead into a quiet, tentative shadow of his former self.

When he'd first come home he hadn't spoken for nearly a week.

FP would have loved to blame Brandon for that change in his son, but he'd seen Jughead before and after debriefing. Brandon might ultimately bear responsibility, a position FP eagerly took whenever the subject of blame arose, but the proximate cause for Jughead shutting down had - without question - been the debriefing process.

Thank God Mary Andrews had moved back from Chicago to help FP straighten out Jughead's legal guardianship, make an attempt at straightening out the mess FP had somehow made of his name change (that rankled so much more than it should), navigate their total shutdown of media access and interviews once Jughead was legally a minor again (seriously, Brandon? You needed to steal another two and a half years of his life?), and then wade into the surprise battle - a horrifying development - to get Jughead released from the debriefing when the FBI had made moves to rendition him for time beyond his original sentence.

Or whatever all that was called. Once the counselors' rosy view of the process had been debunked, FP had a hard time viewing Jughead's debriefing as anything other than an imprisonment or forced deployment extending beyond the terms they'd agreed to. Particularly after he saw the state in which Jughead came home.

"My boy? He's-" make it sound real, FP coached himself mentally "-expressing himself more every day. We're all very grateful for that."

Jughead was still eerily silent much of the time.

FP had read what he could find in the public record about Jughead's captivity in Toronto. What little had not been classified or buried in the inaccessible court documents for Carter's trial had been published everywhere by a twenty-four hour news cycle that seemed to think that twenty-three hours a day was about the right number to devote to the international controversy that Brandon and Jughead represented. But FP had been counseled again and again to be patient with Jughead himself and to wait for him to be ready to talk. To let him express himself on his own terms.

"And he's expressed an active interest in a pet. That's not unusual for someone who feels like humans have let him down. It's a very promising step, and I think this is real progress, FP." The sincerity had backed off and now the tone was full of overly expressive empathy with a generous side of condescension. Good. That meant they'd swung back toward the keeping-custody column.

FP supposed he could blame the counselors for anything that happened with the drug dealers then, too, because it was for all of these sorts of reasons that FP had held his peace when Fred suggested that Jughead ask the German Shepherd's owners if they would be willing to accept free dog-walking services.

Fred _technically_ didn't know they were drug dealers, but FP was sure that even Fred couldn't be that blind. The house was on a less affluent street in Riverdale, but even so it looked as sketchy as houses come and was definitely bringing down real estate values.

Jughead's original query had not been met with enthusiasm from Trigger's owners (they were unsurprisingly confused and suspicious), but it also had not been shot down. And so Jughead had begun dropping by their yard unannounced and taking Trigger out for hours at a time... even as FP noticed the dog beginning to show signs that it was being trained to attack trespassers - any strangers - and fast becoming dangerous to anyone who encountered the large pup without the presence of one of the residents of the drug house... or Jughead.

This was not what FP had pictured 'progress' looking like, but he figured he would just have to take what he could get.

The Serpents were firmly at arm's length in order to keep the custody police happy, but they would look in on the petty drug dealers if the need ever arose. And the whole situation in that house was apparently so pathetic that it was very unlikely to escalate into anything more dangerous than a tragic overdose when someone eventually made a fatal error in the supply chain. Unpleasant, but also unlikely to affect Jughead.

FP actually worried more about Jughead taming Trigger too effectively and getting the pup overly habituated to running in their pack of two. That could easily end with the owners putting a bullet in the dog and starting fresh with something more vicious.

Which would no doubt represent a 'setback,' in the parlance of their family counseling. Couples counseling, FP privately mocked it, since it was just him Jughead in those sessions.

"It's probably a very good sign for his return to school. That's coming up soon, isn't it?"

FP nodded.

Hopefully getting Jughead back into school, at long last, for the final weeks of the year would help. He could reconnect with friends in a more structured environment, do something other than run around in the woods with his dog, and then if the worst did happen with the pup - he would hopefully be less devastated.

Mary Andrews had done a huge amount of work with the school district to ready everyone for Jughead's reappearance in the classroom, and FP was hopeful about that as well.

"How do you feel about that?"

That was an easy one. 'Hope' was another buzzword with these counselors. In this case, though, FP had to admit he understood why.

He didn't even need to hope for much. Anything would be better than the vacant stare that had become his boy's default expression.

**00000**

Jughead sat on his twin mattress on the floor of Archie's bedroom, staring into space. He knew he should probably go and do something, but he couldn't come up with anything he should be doing.

Brand hadn't sent his books yet, and Jughead honestly felt paralyzed whenever he thought about his college reading list. That was still in Toronto as well.

He could go cook something. His stomach growled in response to the thought, but Jughead didn't feel like risking getting trapped in a conversation.

Jughead knew that his silence during the final days of debriefing - the time of captivity that extended past their previously agreed-upon end date before Mary Andrews had pitched enough of a fit that they had to let him go home - had freaked everyone out.

Technically he could have walked out at that point and just gone home, but he'd been so afraid they would bring charges - and not just against him - if he tried. There had been far more than 'veiled' threats to that effect. Jughead had also been under the impression that he was not allowed to say no to anything. It was the FBI, and resisting a 'request' had already not worked out well for him. Folks back home had thankfully realized that he couldn't - wouldn't - fight back on this new request to extend the debriefing, and they had stepped in and pulled the plug on the FBI on his behalf.

After that clear show of support and protection, even Jughead had been surprised when his first week home with friends and family had involved quite a bit of silence.

But it seemed like there were just too many possibilities in every statement of every conversation. Jughead would be thinking through them all and then look up to find that the conversation had stalled, become awkward, and then recovered and moved on before he'd even managed to formulate a response.

Maybe he had brain damage. The doctors hadn't thought so, but there had been a question of oxygen deprivation from being gagged, hooded, and then zip-tied. What did doctors know, anyway?

Jughead stood up and started rifling through his very limited clothing options for a jacket. Late May had been very chilly for Riverdale so far, and people were talking about it being a hard summer for crops. Brand still hadn't sent his clothing, and FP hadn't been up for shopping - and Jughead wasn't sure he wanted to think about it either.

He was putting on a jacket a minute later, but didn't know where he was headed. Maybe Trigger was out.

"Jughead?" Fred knocked on the doorway since the door was ajar.

Jughead made brief eye contact to acknowledge Fred. He'd regained his voice in large part, but still relaxed into silence when he could. Fred always let him, which he appreciated.

Fred took in the jacket. "I was just going to ask what you want to do this afternoon. I've got some errands to run for Andrews Construction and you can ride along if you want."

Jughead understood that everyone had been given orders to force him into 'regaining autonomy in his decision-making.' He just wished they'd respect the fact that he often didn't know what he wanted.

"Where?"

Fred smiled broadly, which seemed awfully patronizing considering it had been a one-word response.

"I've got some supplies to pick up at the lumberyard, and I thought we'd get something from Pop's to treat everyone. I bet Trigger's available for a ride-along, too," Fred seemed to recognize what the jacket signaled, "but I'm gonna need you to keep him on a leash if we take him."

Jughead usually took Trigger to places where he could be off-leash, but that had not gone well the last time he'd had Trig in Fred's truck and left him there alone for a few minutes on a construction site. The dog had seemed to be auditioning for a remake of _Cujo_ when Jughead returned to find two laughing construction workers standing almost in range of Trigger's flashing teeth. They were lucky Trig hadn't been able to worm his way out through the partially open window.

Jughead obediently turned to grab the flexible leash he'd bought for Trigger with his first withdrawal from the fund that had been set up for his education and expenses. Probably by Rose, but Jughead knew better than to say his name out loud. An 'anonymous donor' had set up a fund for FP as well, apparently because he'd been so moved by their story, and that was as much explanation as they were going to get.

So far Jughead had spent approximately fifty dollars of his enormous fund. All of it was on Trigger.

"Betty's helping her mother with the gardening in front of their house," Fred had started down the stairs and Jughead followed. "You could go say hi. I've got one more phone call, to make sure everything's lined up and ready. We'll be back in time to make dinner, too, so be thinking about what you want."

Pizza. Croissants. Jughead blinked. This was a large part of the problem: a lot of what he wanted he couldn't say out loud or everyone made That Face.

"Okay," Jughead said simply. He managed a grimace in place of a genuine smile and went to say hi to Betty. His former girlfriend.

Or so he guessed, since they hadn't talked about it since he'd returned from debrief, and fair enough. He'd left thinking it would be forever, so she officially had a free pass for ghosting on whatever they'd had so briefly before then. He caught tantalizing glimpses of her routine pretty much daily from Archie's window, but so far couldn't talk coherently with her to save his life.

Fred watched Jughead walk out the front door and was left to wonder for the millionth time whether they were doing things the right way. They were all so far out of their depth, and the progress was so slow that it was nearly invisible. What made it most frustrating was that they could all sit in a room in silence and see the wheels turning for Jughead - he was weighing, processing, and connecting things like crazy; you could see it past the carefully blank expression he'd begun relaxing into - and that whole world was inaccessible to any of them.

At least Jughead had Trigger, and soon he'd be back in school as well. Fred really hoped this was the right way to do things.

**00000**

"Jug!" Betty waved enthusiastically from where she was kneeling over the flower bed. Her tone was too bright and her smile didn't match her eyes. Her ponytailed hair had a streak of dirt in it, like the sporty gardener version of a fashion statement.

Jughead tried not to stare at the dirt and to think about brushing it free for her. He made it all the way to a genuine smirk this time, hoping it would help smooth out whatever came next. It had become hard to predict what new mortifications were in store for each and every day. "Hi."

"Um," Betty stood up and her mother gave her an expectant look from where she continued kneeling and weeding. "How are you today?"

"I'm-," Jughead sifted through the information he had about the day. "I'm going with Fred to Pop's."

"Okay," Betty's smile got a little brighter and her expression transitioned from overly indulgent into slightly fake.

Crap, that hadn't come out quite right. Jughead's eyes went back to the streak of dirt and his stomach suddenly hurt.

"I'm good."

"Uh-huh," Betty's smile was nearly frozen now, and it looked like she was sifting through information in her head too.

This wasn't awkward at all.

"We're taking Trig," Jughead held up the leash, as if Betty didn't know that Trigger was a dog. He felt like slapping himself in the forehead. But that might make her feel guilty. He dropped his hands back to his sides. Held them there tensely. Didn't look at her hair.

"Oh," Betty had tried to like Trigger for Jughead's sake, but she was obviously terrified of the large dog. Why in the world had he mentioned Trigger? "That sounds-,"

"Betty, can you please help me with the weeding?" Alice gave Betty a look, as if Jughead wasn't standing right there and couldn't tell that she was trying to give her daughter an out from this conversation.

Which was probably a mercy killing at this point.

"Jughead?" Fred called from across the street.

Apparently everyone could see he was drowning here.

"See ya," Jughead waved, itching to do something - anything - with his hands. Then he realized how awkward that was since he was approximately two feet away from Betty. Ach.

"Yeah, sure, Jughead," Betty smiled and, hesitating a little too long, punctuated her statement by mimicking his waving gesture.

This was horrifying.

Jughead turned and jogged to the truck.

"That went well," Fred said mildly.

Jughead wanted to cringe, but he didn't want to make Fred worry even more. Instead he stared out the window at nothing as they pulled out of the space in front of the house.

As they drove to pick up Trigger, Jughead's hand reached down to his pocket where he'd tucked away the note. It wasn't like anyone else would understand it, so he didn't have to worry about someone seeing it or reading it.

Nobody had flagged it in the 'fan mail' Jughead was inexplicably receiving and usually didn't read closely - it was typically heavy on demands or conspiracy theories - but as he'd shucked this week's mail out of the envelopes and sorted it for shredding or saving, this one had stood out immediately. Just three words:

Keep lying, kid.

Brand obviously couldn't sign it, and Jughead didn't think he'd be able to identify his handwriting with a gun to his head, but he was certain this was their first contact since Jughead had left Toronto.

He wasn't alone.

**00000**

**Please review! This is a serious reach for me, so I'm going to need more reassurances than usual that things are making sense and hanging together (or feedback if they are not!). This story is already kicking my butt (and has me hooked). I hope you enjoyed!**

**-Button**


	2. Chapter 2

**Uh, double-length chapter alert. Twice the fun!**

**Thanks so much for the fantastic enthusiasm, Living Lucid Dream! I also love dogs (in case this story doesn't make that clear), so I'll be crushed if ends badly too. You (and Jug) would not mourn alone. FP's arc is def fairly central here, and he's having a rough time with limited information, yep. Loss of control is not his thing. I've found that part complicated, but it's also just spewing onto the page as I go (see also: a double-length chapter already!). Poor Jughead is working overtime to learn new rules all over again - and balancing a LOT of competing concerns after two stories (yikes?). Regarding Brand, he kind of blots out the sun for me when he's in a scene. Keep reading to see how he figures in this time around... Ample space for FP will be made, though. :)**

**As always, I hope you enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"But are you sure you want to try _this_?" Fred had been badgering FP for a few days about his latest decision for getting Jughead help.

"He's going back to school in a week," FP rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily. Mary had gone to bed early with a book so that they could have this argument yet again. Jughead and Archie were playing some video game and Archie was making more than enough noise for both teens - and ensuring that the adults would not be overheard. "You saw him at dinner."

Jughead had always seemed like he might be a contender for competitive eating, but since he'd gotten back from Toronto it had become ridiculous. He was underweight, and the four separate nutritionists who had examined him were deadlocked about whether that was a result of his current growth spurt or some combination of neglect and starvation.

Jughead hadn't been entirely coherent on the topic, either, and had apparently related times when he hadn't received any food and times when he was handed more than enough money to get whatever food he wanted. The current theory was that the inconsistency had been the worst possible combination and he'd developed some sort of eating disorder.

Archie insisted that Jughead wasn't hoarding food, though; they'd been told to watch for that. Instead he ate like he was starving at formal mealtimes and then appeared to forget to eat for long stretches at a time.

This evening they'd learned something new, though, and they weren't sure where it was coming from.

Mary had offered Jughead seconds on dinner when he seemed to have inhaled his food before the others had really started to dig in. When Jughead accepted gratefully, she'd taken a chance and dished up an enormous portion for him instead of passing the dishes for him to serve himself as they normally did.

Jughead's eyes had gotten huge as he reached for the plate quickly, as if he thought Mary might change her mind.

"Honey, how hungry _are_ you?" Mary shot an uncertain look at Fred and FP, and nudged a loaf of bread toward Jughead as well.

"I've been hungry since-," Jughead stopped himself then, glancing guiltily at FP.

That had been a giveaway, since FP got upset at any mention of Brandon. It hadn't been quite so incendiary until the day that Jughead had absentmindedly called him 'Brand' by mistake; that had gone nuclear in an instant, and now nobody in the household brought up Brandon's name if they could avoid it.

"Eat until you're full," Mary's tone had been soothing and encouraging even as she gave FP a warning look so he wouldn't comment. "You need to eat enough."

Even Archie's eyes had bugged out when Jughead ate then.

Apparently Mary had finally uttered the magic words.

Now they just needed to get Jughead to eat when she wasn't there to tell him it was okay. Like at school.

And all of them were wondering what else could be unlocked if they could find the right combination of words.

"Look, he's got some food issues," Fred agreed, "and whoever chose his self-defense class in debrief clearly hadn't read his file." Jughead had spent a number of unproductive hours with an all-female class of survivors of rape and abuse, learning how to execute very basic self-defense moves. It had apparently not gone well. "I just wonder if this is extreme."

A Krav Maga instructor had reached out to FP with an offer of free classes for Jughead and story after story about transitioning veterans who had felt uncomfortable in civilian settings because of the hard-won instincts from their training - and benefited from a safe place where they could blow off steam and not worry about doing any damage, since the instructor was so 'masterfully trained' that he'd keep it under control at all times. Apparently it was cathartic, and curated testimonials abounded on the website.

To Fred it all seemed a little too unofficial, and maybe even fly-by-night in tone. The FBI had advised against the program and the counselors he'd asked had never heard of it.

"So what if it is?" FP hissed, really not wanting this part overheard. "Isn't _all_ of this extreme? I say it's worth a shot."

"Krav Maga, though?" Fred shook his head. "One of us will need to be in the room at all times. There's sometimes a whole ethos that goes with it, and-,"

"So we'll stay in the room," FP conceded, though his frustration did not abate. "We'll both go for the first day. It will just be a warm-up session anyway. I'm ready to try it, and Jughead-,"

They both knew there was a simple way to get Jughead willingly into the class: if they said it was a good idea, he wouldn't say a word against it.

It was downright creepy.

At least FP had stopped picking fights with Jughead, to try and get him to fight back. That phase had thankfully been very short-lived before Fred had pieced together what was going on: he'd discovered Jughead trying frantically to agree enough with FP to de-escalate his father's increasing frustration - and looking like he was willing to gnaw off his own arm to escape FP's grip on him.

Thank God those two had moved in with the Andrews or that might have ended very badly.

They weren't sure how far that reflex of compliance extended for Jughead, but it certainly seemed to be deeply, deeply instinctive for him when it came to anyone he felt dependent on for food and shelter. He'd become silent at strategic moments, as if that were not a form of resistance in its own right (Jughead's stubborn streak could still shine through at odd moments), rather than disagree or refuse anything.

They'd quickly learned to use careful phrasing to ask and not tell Jughead things, but it was also difficult for the adults to gradually update their own habits from the first week when he'd been home. Anything that had worked even once was hard to let go of, so whenever Jughead successfully adjusted in some way, even if it was an obvious improvement, there tended to be a lag before everyone else adjusted to match him. This meant that they were constantly out of sync.

Yet another source of stress.

Archie complained regularly that the adults were frustratingly slow to read Jughead; it wasn't clear if that difference in perspective stemmed from the advantage of rooming together or being the same age and best friends for so long, but Fred could tell that Archie was able to see changes happening before anyone else in the household. Sometimes before Jughead. And according to Archie, a lot of them were _really_ obvious when they clicked.

Jughead would occasionally express disagreement with Archie, which was valuable information - and something that happened more and more as Archie slowly reintroduced teasing to their relationship under the nervous, watchful supervision of the adults ("no pressure," Archie griped to them when they held their 'strategy meetings' with him). Jughead seemed to accept the teasing, and that friendship was one of the few spaces where he almost looked like a normal teenager again.

In an echo of his son, Fred worried about the pressure that put on Archie.

"Jughead will go, I know," Fred sighed. "When is this class?"

**00000**

"You asleep, man?" Archie asked about five minutes after lights out.

"I never sleep," Jughead responded in a spooky voice.

"Yeah, I just can't always tell when you're awake over your snoring," Archie shot back. Conversation was always easier after the lights were off. "So, school in a week."

Jughead didn't respond to his statement of the obvious. Conversation was easier, but that didn't mean easy.

"You'll have to catch up on more than half the year. They might want to hold you back, Jug," Archie had been working through a powerful reflex of guilt by throwing himself headlong into his role in Jughead's reintegration in Riverdale. It wouldn't make up for thinking he'd been dead - convincing people he'd been dead - and potentially slowing down their recovery of his best friend. But it helped.

Jughead had forgiven him, anyway, or more accurately never blamed him in the first place. And even FP had explained that he'd more than forgiven him when he'd tagged along to Montreal and gotten Fred up there in the process. Archie figured he could ignore everyone else's judgment - and there was plenty of it - as long as that was the case.

"Probably," Jughead wasn't sure what to expect, but he figured his fallback position was taking the GED and graduating alongside his friends in that manner. He had not shared this idea with anyone; it was a plan he'd made with Brand, and that made him defensive about possible responses to it - his dad's response to it - and so he'd keep it quiet for now.

"I'll help you study."

"Thanks, Archie."

"Is Trig as good as his name? He could help too."

"Good night, Archie."

Archie smiled into the darkness over the simple conversation.

**00000**

Veronica was meeting Betty at Pop's the following day and she was surprised to see Alice - and for a few moments she wasn't sure what to do. Freezing at the counter, she thought this through carefully: she didn't want to be cliquish, and Alice didn't have a lot of friends in Riverdale at this point, but she had been absent from school for a week after her father's arrest… and then Alice had given a very harsh interview to the local press to the effect that Jughead had been lying about what actually happened in Toronto.

Jughead was finally back in Riverdale, so in theory he could now give his rebuttal to Alice's statements, but Mary Andrews had put the fear of God into all members of the press about approaching him.

Veronica wasn't sure to do with all of that. Of course she wanted to believe Jughead, and it seemed like all of Canada and the US government had vetted his story at length, but a number of people seemed to know for a fact that the FBI had wanted more time with him - and even now it seemed like nobody had any idea how or why Alice had met Jughead in Toronto.

That detail didn't fit with any of the fragmented stories that had come out so far, and while Alice had not gotten traction by telling the press Jughead was lying - the story hadn't been picked up outside of Riverdale - that hadn't stopped the national media from tearing Jughead apart on a number of other details that didn't quite seem to fit.

It was a maelstrom. People either didn't know what to think at this point, or they had some form of unshakable opinion without any evidence to back it up.

According to the press, if Jughead was not an 'unreliable narrator,' he was either a reluctant patriot or a helpless victim. Certain networks and newspapers had chosen a version and doubled down, fighting endlessly on talk shows about whose characterization was most accurate, and the lack of even basic footage - beyond that same loop of Jughead and Brandon leaving a mansion, over and over - seemed to have whipped the coverage into a frenzy of speculation and partisan debate about the overreach of intelligence agencies and whether this was a plot by foreign powers.

To do what? Veronica had to wonder. Rid Riverdale and Toronto of drug and weapons dealers? What a _terrible_ abuse of power that would be. No; the only argument that flew with her was that Brandon should never have been allowed to go so far undercover that Jughead had gotten hurt in the process of keeping the mission moving forward.

And from what Archie had described seeing in the trailer that night, 'hurt' was the only word for it. Any insistence that Brand had been 'reprimanded' and now knew he'd been out of line - and had somehow justifiably been trying to protect Jughead from far worse dangers - made Veronica still angrier. She hadn't spent much time with Jughead since he'd gotten back, but Brand seemed fine in his many, many interviews. Jughead did not seem fine.

That was profoundly unfair.

Also unfair was the fact that Brandon was uniformly characterized by every media outlet as a hero. They loved the idea that he was rough around the edges - ha! - but had done the best he could to protect Jughead against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and had even gone against direct orders to do so.

His line that he didn't think the American CIA offered parenting classes, either, had gone viral. What a comedian.

What was she thinking? Veronica suddenly realized she couldn't possibly approach Alice. Betty was meeting her any minute. She should just intercept her friend and find a different place to hang out.

Alice looked up just in time to see Veronica disappear out the door of Pop's.

**00000**

Jughead took advantage of the gorgeous afternoon and went to get Trigger for a walk. Archie had said that he'd meet them in the clearing in Fox Forest where Jughead often ended up throwing a ball again and again for Trig and playing their invented chase game. FP had been interested in going for a walk, too, though Jughead wasn't so sure that was because he thought he'd enjoy it - it sounded more like something his counselor had suggested.

As usual, someone's face popped into view through the kitchen window when Jughead strode into the yard. He waved amiably; Trig's family seemed like friends to him, though he didn't even know their names.

Trigger was dancing and barking in excitement and Jughead felt a grin light him up from the inside out - and Trigger was one companion who wouldn't mind if that didn't translate into an actual facial expression. Jughead hooked his leash onto Trig before releasing him from the short run in the yard. They'd be able to get off-leash once they were in Fox Forest.

They picked up from a walk to a run, Jughead feeling his legs welcome the exercise. Trig seemed to want to go even faster, though he continually looked back and up at Jughead as he bounded down the sidewalk with him.

It wasn't long before they'd reached their favorite clearing in Fox Forest, and Jughead pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket. Trigger began his 'ready' signals of leaping and circling in the direction he predicted Jughead would sling the ball - and Trig caught him out when he faked the first throw.

"Oh, you saw that, huh?" Jughead crouched and Trigger ran over to lean against his knees and be energetically rubbed. "Yeah, you're smart. Nothing happens without you knowing about it."

Trigger licked Jughead's chin and then rested his muzzle contentedly on Jughead's knees.

"Come on, Trig, we've got miles to go before we sleep," Jughead stood back up and crouched into a running stance. Trig danced around him again, recognizing the signal for their chase game. "All right, boy, let's go."

The two began a complicated game of chase, tag, and tumbling in the field, and occasionally Jughead whipped the ball away so Trigger could chase and retrieve it.

Archie and FP arrived, but FP stopped Archie before they entered the clearing. "Hang on. This is... interesting."

Archie had played "Trigger Ball," as Jughead had named it after the Calvin and Hobbes game, but realized this was the first time FP was seeing it. "It's weird, right? He's so different at home, and then he's, like, Super Jughead out here with Trig."

FP frowned, but he was actually deeply relieved by the scene in the clearing. He'd harbored an insidious, underlying fear that the quiet, timid Jughead who returned to Riverdale was simply who he was now - that there was nothing more of his spark left to recover as he healed and adjusted back to life in Riverdale. What FP was now seeing suggested that Jughead had begun to come into his own in some ways over the last seven months - especially physically - and his obvious enjoyment of Trigger's energy and their invented game suggested that Jughead's spark was anything but gone.

"We're getting in the way somehow," FP mused aloud. "He's got everything in there still, and we're just getting in the way."

"We're a lot to take in, I guess," Archie shrugged. He'd become accustomed to the pockets of near-normalcy with Trigger and how sharply they contrasted with Jughead's demeanor the rest of the time. "Come on; I usually just play with them when I come out here."

Archie joined the chase and Trigger accepted him easily with just a brief woof to let Jughead know they had another player.

FP entered the clearing and continued to watch. This looked like evidence that trying out the Krav class was the right move; it seemed like connecting in this physical realm, with less reliance on conversation, might be key to Jughead moving forward. Perhaps it would help in all ways.

The boys ran for a while, throwing the ball back and forth and sometimes away to Trigger. They finally collapsed, as if by some unseen signal, in the middle of the field. Trigger barked a couple of times to see if he could tempt them back into the game, but then padded over to Jughead and flopped down next to his ribcage.

FP walked over now. "Work up an appetite?"

Jughead looked up at him, and for just a moment there was an expression of happy abandon that FP had sorely missed and almost given up on seeing again - and then it was gone, though one arm reached over to pull Trig closer. The dog snuffled into Jughead's shoulder and then sneezed.

"We'll get him a doggie bag," FP reached out a hand and Trigger investigated it thoroughly. His teeth bared but he wasn't quite snarling.

"That's my dad, Trig," Jughead explained in a warm tone that seemed reserved solely for the German Shepherd. "He's safe. He'll feed you too."

Trigger's not-insubstantial killer instinct certainly was missing when it came to Jughead. FP hoped that wouldn't spell the end of the dog, but seeing the degree of roughhousing that went on between Jughead and Trigger, this was not surprising - it was either that or Jughead would have been mauled before now.

It wasn't the right time to take on any new responsibilities, but FP could tell that he'd soon be forced to consider getting a dog.

They'd just see how Krav Maga went first.

**00000**

Betty was surprised when Veronica came out of Pop's to intercept her, but when she caught sight of Alice through the plate glass windows she was glad that she hadn't had to be the one to ask that they relocate. It still felt mean, despite everything Alice had done and was still doing to bring pariah status upon herself.

It was bad enough that Alice had said that stuff about Jughead, even though she hadn't ended up getting much of an audience for her wild accusations. The news that Betty had caught wind of today about _The Blue and Gold_ now had her seeing red, and she wanted to talk it through with Veronica before she was forced into any conversation - confrontation - with Alice Carter.

"Betty," Veronica's tone was breezy and she smiled brightly, "do you mind if we go for a walk instead of staying at Pop's? I've been dying to stretch my legs and I actually think the smell of food might make me sick right now."

"I saw her, V," Betty confessed, letting her friend off the hook. She appreciated the well-intentioned lie, though. "A walk would be great. This is actually _about_ Alice, surprise surprise-" Alice had been a subject of many long discussions during the weeks since Jughead had been located "-only this time she has her eye on _The Blue and Gold_. Can you believe that?"

Veronica was not surprised to learn that they'd be hashing out Alice Carter yet again, and she suddenly realized that while she _was_ surprised it was about _The Blue and Gold_, she probably shouldn't be.

"Betty... " Veronica paused to choose her words carefully. "How much have you been writing for _The_ _Blue and Gold_ recently?"

Veronica's schedule had altered very little since the previous fall. If anything, she'd forced even more into her schedule and kept as busy as possible. Betty had needed support; Archie had needed support _and_ they were newly dating. Veronica didn't have time to fully break down, and she knew that if she went there at all over Jughead and Brandon then she might not do it halfway. And honestly, that method of processing didn't appeal to her. So, she kept her mouth shut when she suffered from bad dreams about Archie being in danger, or even more troublingly about Jughead's miraculous reappearance somehow making Archie realize that any relationship with Veronica had been nothing more than a symptom of his grief, and that he had now outgrown it.

It sometimes amazed Veronica to see the degree to which she could make almost anything all about herself. And so, repulsed by her own grief and confusion when those feelings (obviously) rightfully belonged to her best friend and boyfriend, Veronica ignored the harsh twinges whenever she read something dark in the news about what had - or had not - happened to Jughead, and instead she focused solely on pitching in.

Betty had not reacted the same way.

_The_ _Blue and Gold_ had been neglected at best since Jughead had disappeared, and perhaps 'abandoned' was the only fair word for matters since Jughead had been found and - to their shock and anger - none of the teens had been permitted to even see him before he was sequestered for debriefing. Debriefing had been a demoralizing reality even before it was suddenly rumored that it might be extended for weeks or, someone had said, months - and would then have come close to lasting longer than the time that Jughead had been missing in the first place.

It really made you wonder who was in charge of these sorts of decisions.

Thank heavens that hadn't actually happened, for so many reasons, but in part because during the entire time that the teens had felt weirdly like Jughead was frozen in time somewhere, not kidnapped but not yet home, both Betty and Archie had seemed to join him there in limbo.

Veronica wasn't sure about homework, but everything else she could see had fallen apart for both of them until FP had finally been given the green light to drive hours away to pick up Jughead from the debriefing facility. Sports, music, writing, social events - it was all halted in favor of endless speculation and spiraling conversations about what had happened before, and what would happen next.

So it was possible that Alice was not staging a coup. She might even be rescuing the student publication.

That was a disloyal thought, Veronica knew that, but she also knew that in order to help she'd need to find out more about what had happened. Only then could she come up with a plan that might actually work. Veronica wasn't stupid: _The_ _Blue and Gold_ didn't just belong to Betty. Losing that turf to Alice could easily mean Jughead losing his beloved space on Riverdale High's campus, and Veronica had been wanting to do something to pitch in and help him feel fully back at home - and the management of this sort of conflict was right up her alley.

She'd pick Betty's brain on this and if it seemed necessary then they'd make a plan to see Alice ousted faster than the new teen could alienate an entire town.

Which was pretty darn fast.

**00000**

Fred had agreed to do the driving on Saturday, and he exchanged a glance with FP when Jughead hopped into the backseat and closed the door - and then opened it again before closing it a second time.

It was hard to tell sometimes if Jughead had developed OCD behaviors here and there, and certainly a number of actions that had seemed bizarre turned out to have a full back story - Archie's dismantled closet came to mind - but that one he seemed to do without thinking.

These things could change, too. Just this week Jughead had abandoned his ritual of swiftly and decisively sorting his impressive stack of mail once a week, right over the shredder. Now he was checking the mail every day and opening every piece with renewed interest. Hopefully they'd see more and more good signs like that as time went on.

They began the two-hour drive to meet Keating.

"So," FP had learned not to turn on the radio in the car with Jughead and decided to take advantage of the lengthy ride by talking about the upcoming changes they were facing, "are you looking forward to going back to school?"

Jughead was silent.

"Jughead?" FP wasn't sure how that question could be interpreted as having been directed toward Fred.

"I'm not sure."

Fred focused on the driving. This was already - depressingly - one of FP's more successful stabs at discussing this with Jughead and he didn't want to intrude.

"Are you not sure how it's going to go?" FP thought he had some reassurances he could offer if that was the issue.

"I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to it." Jughead was staring out the window.

"We can get you a tutor. Get you caught up." FP tried not to let the agitation come through in his tone, but he deeply resented the fact that Brandon had disrupted Jughead's education. Nobody had actually expected that Jughead would be enrolled in a Toronto school, but it still rankled. Especially with all of those interviews with Brandon constantly popping up these days.

"Uh-huh."

FP decided to let it drop. He reached for the radio; Jughead would live.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"I need a haircut."

Another thing they'd neglected, along with serious clothing shopping. Jughead's hair was going to reach his shoulders if they let it go for much longer.

"Yeah, you do," FP laughed shortly.

"Can we stop on the way?"

"Wait, you mean now?" FP exchanged another glance with Fred. "Uh, we could. I think we have time. Any reason?"

"Yeah."

FP waited expectantly.

"One you'd like to share with the class, boy?"

"No."

Well, alright then.

**00000**

Jughead was grateful for the freedom to make his own 'autonomous decisions' when they stopped at a barbershop. His description of how he wanted his hair cut made his dad wince and Mr. Andrews studiously pretend he was not very aware that it was how Jughead had cut his hair in Toronto.

He liked it long enough to be useful for buffering conversations, but not long enough to be particularly useful against him in combat. Someone could still grab him, but they'd have to work for it now.

Krav Maga wasn't something Jughead knew a lot about, but he'd looked it up online when FP had declared that they were pursuing the free lessons - just one of seemingly thousands of gifts and free services offered to famous kidnapped people, apparently - and he hadn't liked the descriptions of it being very dirty fighting. Jughead hadn't looked at videos, knowing those might be inaccurate, but the history of Krav was intense enough that he'd gotten worried about his hair being longer than he was used to.

Longer than it had ever been when he trained with Brand.

"Can we get socks on the way home?" Jughead asked when they left the barbershop.

FP looked to Fred this time; they really shouldn't disrupt his day too much.

"Let's do that," Fred was surprised but pleased to hear Jughead express interest in an errand. "But you need a lot more than just socks according to Mary's tales of the laundry."

"I'll start doing my own laundry."

"That's not what I meant," Fred said gently. "Mary enjoys being maternal; she's absolutely thrilled to have two boys to fuss over. She thinks you need more clothing than just socks, though, and I've learned over the years that she's usually right."

Jughead climbed into the backseat and closed his door twice. "My stuff will come soon."

FP and Fred were getting good at communicating through their shared glances. Neither had any expectation that the clothing and books Jughead expected would be arriving anytime soon. Or ever.

"We'll get you two more outfits today," FP said firmly. He'd been overruled on taking away the three sets of clothing that Jughead had returned with - the counselors tried to explain that this transition home was paradoxically a time of loss for Jughead, and that the very few possessions he carried would likely be important to him - but this was a good opportunity to replace more of those just by giving him more options to choose from. Maybe they'd get another backpack, too, and get rid of the one held together by two rows of safety pins where the straps had inexplicably been cut. "You'll be back in school in a few days, remember. That should get you started."

"Okay." Jughead went back to staring out the window.

**00000**

They pulled up in front of the gym, which looked very clean; they passed quite a bit of high-end exercise equipment on their way to the area where aerobic and martial arts classes were held.

Keating met them there, at the door to one of the rooms in the back of the gym. "Welcome. Thank you for considering my program. You must be Jonas."

All three reacted to the name.

"Uh, it's Jughead," Shaking back his newly-cut hair, Jughead was obviously sizing up the man in front of him.

"We're in the process of changing it back." FP was glaring now. Maybe coming out here to watch a stranger fight with his son had not been the best plan.

"And we're glad to meet you," Fred had been the least enthusiastic about the plan, but he smoothed over the moment as much as he could. "What exactly do you do in your program?"

"Well," Keating folded his arms and made a point of raking his eyes over Jughead critically, "most of that depends on _Jughead _here. How long have you trained?"

"About… six, seven months," Jughead ducked his head, knowing that even hearing the timeframe aloud was likely to bother his dad.

"Have you done any Krav before?"

"No."

"Other martial arts?"

"No."

"Now, I already know you've had some training," Keating's tone was slightly scolding. "You mean to tell me that fancy special agent just taught you basic self-defense moves?"

"_No_." Jughead wasn't sure if he was more irritated by the reminder of his horrifying time spent trying not to terrify all of his classmates in self-defense class - or by the implication that Brand had taught him poorly.

"Yeah, well, I guess we'll see about that."

Fred was starting to get a bad feeling about Keating. It was generous of him to offer to work with Jughead for free, but without the promise of publicity for his trouble - thank you, Mary - it was entirely possible that his motives were ego-driven.

It could even be that Keating wanted to prove a point about Brandon and his training, and this was less to do with helping Jughead than they'd hoped.

FP was definitely biting his tongue at this point, and Fred admired his restraint. FP believed this might be helpful for Jughead, and he was clearly going to stick it out to see what came of it.

Fred might already be out the door if it had been Archie.

They filed into the room that looked like it functioned as a dojo for the gym.

"You can sit here," Keating ushered Fred and FP off to one side. "Please do not interfere; Krav Maga is not for everyone, and our method here is one of immersion. We'll have a clear sense of where your son is coming from very soon. Don't worry; I won't let him hurt himself or me."

The two men sat, exchanging yet another glance. Both felt their hackles rise in response to that little speech.

Keating walked with Jughead to the middle of the room.

"So, do you think you can hurt me?"

Jughead didn't answer. His expression seemed studiously blank, which was a subtle but noticeable change from what Archie liked to call his 'resting blank face.'

"Are you afraid you might accidentally hurt someone? You feel like you don't know your own strength?" Keating's tone had become slightly mocking and he moved into a more ready stance. "You've come to the right place, Jughead. I'm someone you can learn something from. You won't be able to do any damage, and you can try whatever you know on me without worrying."

Jughead shrugged and his expression didn't change.

"You think I'm mistaken? Or maybe you enjoy feeling like you're some kind of a strong, silent type?" Keating seemed to be losing patience as Jughead refused to engage with his monologue. "Why don't you try your worst. Right here; right now."

Jughead's eyebrows shot up and his eyes flicked around the room.

"You don't like it here? We can move to wherever the lighting's better for you," Keating's tone was definitely mocking now.

FP was visibly tensing. Fred was getting curious, though, and he laid a restraining hand on FP's arm. Jughead had a lot of ways of conveying anxiety and agitation, and Fred was seeing absolutely none of that. He was actually so relaxed that Fred was slightly worried for him as he noticed Keating's increasingly tense posture.

Maybe FP had been right. Maybe they were about to see a breakthrough.

Keating moved toward Jughead, who ducked backward as if he was startled. FP moved forward then, pulling against Fred's grip.

Nobody saw Jughead's next move coming.

Jughead's startle response was apparently a feint, and it had brought him within reach of a scary-looking paintball gun that was leaning against the wall. Jughead lifted it like it was a real gun, carefully keeping it aimed at the floor, but the threat was clear: he'd use it as a blunt weapon if he needed to.

"I wasn't thinking we'd bring weapons in today," Keating was clearly taken aback. "That's a modified paintball gun, by the way, so you don't have to be quite so careful. We use them in training."

Jughead clearly had not known that, based on his look of surprise at the gun in his hand. Fred and FP would both worry about that particular detail later.

Keating wasn't off his stride for long. "Did Davies teach you anything that didn't require reliance on weapons?"

Jughead was still silent, but this time his shrug was clearly sarcastic and seemed to respond more to the taunt in Keating's voice than his question.

"Well, let's try sticking with hand to hand for a bit. If you think you're up for that," Keating was sneering now.

FP must have seen what Fred had seen, though, because he was now relaxing and crossing his arms. Jughead was still emphatically expressionless and his stance was nowhere near ready - but it hadn't seemed to be before, either, and he'd moved quickly. Both men sitting on the sidelines leaned forward, eager to see this play out.

Jughead was definitely waiting. Keating clearly didn't like that and made the first move again.

There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly Keating was on the floor. Jughead stood over him, and now his ready stance was very visible.

Keating reached up and Jughead offered him a hand. When Keating used the position and the element of surprise to come after Jughead, everyone was surprised to see that the teen not only expected the motion but was ready with a punishing counter-strike.

Now Keating looked angry.

Jughead danced out of reach, signaling clearly that he was done. FP stood up. It seemed like it might be a good time to leave.

That was when Keating attacked Jughead viciously.

Fred gasped and FP moved forward with purpose now, but both were stopped in their tracks when Jughead held his own against what were obviously dirty moves - and he lit up with an unfamiliar grin.

"Did you train with Brand too?" Jughead wasn't remotely winded as he countered powerfully and threw himself into the sparring that had now crossed too many lines to count.

Keating looked triumphant when he laid a heavy elbow into Jughead's face, but then startled when it became apparent that Jughead had allowed the blow so that he could finish the altercation decisively.

Fred wondered if Keating had broken ribs.

FP didn't care about that - Jughead's eye was already blackening and he was livid.

"You said you wouldn't let him get hurt!" FP strode over to Keating, who was not getting back up from where he was clutching his ribs in pain. "Get up! What kind of cheap, amateur-,"

"This kid knows Krav Maga," Keating spat out. "He's obviously been training for years. What are _you_ trying to pull?"

"Okay, we're leaving right now." Fred grabbed Jughead's arm and FP's shoulder.

Jughead was almost out of the room when he looked back over his shoulder, "Once a week?"

"_No_, Jughead," Fred pushed him out the door ahead of himself. "We're not doing this again."

FP couldn't help but chuckle at that, though the black eye was starting to look like it was spreading further across the side of Jughead's face.

Fred glared at FP.

"What? He deserved it."

"He really did," Jughead agreed.

"I need to call Mary," Fred kept hustling the Jones men toward the parking lot and the car. "She'll need to talk to the school right away about keeping you out of gym class."

This time FP's laugh was loud and long enough to turn heads. Jughead shot him a tentative smile.

Apparently he'd finally done something right.

**00000**

**I hope you enjoyed! I'll reiterate my request for reviews: with this story I'm pretty clearly in over my head, so please let me know how it's reading on your end. I'm happy to adjust as needed so it all hangs together as well as possible, and even if you just confirm "yes - that made sense" it will help. :-D I hope you have a lovely start to the week!**

**-Button**


	3. Chapter 3

**Heyyyy, thanks everyone for the fantastic feedback!**

**All of your notes were super encouraging this week in particular, and Releqah - thank you so much for the really (amazingly) supportive notes about BCBC and AWP as well! Guest, I was so glad to hear you're still hanging in there with Team Alice (woo-hoo!) since she's amazingly fun to write and one of the most complex characters in the lineup. The Krav scene was my favorite to write. Or maybe Trigger Ball. Man, this story is just one long romp... and you make it so much more fun by sharing it. Thank you for reading and for your faithful notes along the way!**

**Living Lucid Dream, best review ever? I rewrote the (exactly two) mentions of the self-defense class about a billion times. Those are deep waters, and I fully agree with your response. Archie's getting some more arc this time around, which I'm enjoying watching play out. He's right at ground zero and that's not fun. Veronica's doing her thing, but she's brewing as well (I think). I was reflecting that this series is all about the "hot Riverdale dads to the rescue" (Kevin usually says it best) and that's cool, but I'm also glad we've got a fantastic mom who can be more central this time. Trigger makes me worry, so maybe don't adopt an attack dog unless he's firmly fictional. But if fictional, you might have the best boy on your hands, yes. Maybe. ;) Good eye for detail, too! That happened twice (we officially have trivia now? Whaaat?); once per completed story. I had the sense it was getting easy to forget the effectiveness of the training, agreed. It's like training in low oxygen and then coming back to sea level. Or something. Thanks for the confirmation that things are making sense, too! I'm very grateful that you've got my back. :) (my word counts are way up per chapter, for example... Extra content? Or just extra wordy? I promise I am capable of editing!)**

**And, after all that ado...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Archie was glad that he'd missed the super-long Saturday outing with his dad, FP, and Jughead. Based on the texts he was getting from his dad and from Jughead as they apparently did some seasonally-inappropriate back-to-school shopping for Jughead, there had been some epic moments that probably should have been filmed for posterity - but more than four hours in the car with no music was not his idea of fun.

Plus, he wasn't feeling so great.

Veronica had declared him quarantined, since she apparently could _not_ get sick this week and still manage her commitments. They'd had a long phone date and then Archie had curled up miserably in bed.

Normally his dad would bring Archie crackers and soup, a supply of ginger ale, and make sure that his temperature didn't spike too high. His mom was in town of course, but she was having another 'emergency' meeting about Jughead's class schedule since he was going back to school on Monday - and that was only thirty-six hours away now.

Archie figured that he of all people really shouldn't complain. He'd essentially declared Jughead dead, and even given up in Montreal before FP and his dad found Jug in Toronto. They were best friends, and he had objectively sucked at being any kind of friend when the chips were down.

But he was sick, the house was empty, and maybe he'd just bite the bullet and feel sorry for himself for five minutes. Jughead had all three parents working overtime for him while Archie couldn't even find the barf bucket his dad normally kept in case of these sorts of emergencies.

Or the mop. See also: missing barf bucket.

"Vegas!" Archie saw the dog approach the vomit in the hallway and knew he needed to act quickly. Just the thought made him want to be sick all over again.

He finally got Vegas shooed away, the vomit fairly well cleaned up if he did say so himself, and even assembled a meal out of some lukewarm soup and lesser crackers - his dad always bought him the little round ones when he was sick - and tucked himself back into bed with his mom's heating pad for comfort.

There was still no sign of that bucket.

Archie hadn't mentioned any of this to either of his parents via text, either; he might be feeling sorry for himself, but he didn't want to make anyone rush home. If this bug stuck around for more than twenty-four hours, Jug might have to go back to school without him, which would be disappointing for them both. Jughead should at least have socks. And whatever else they were buying, since Archie's dad seemed convinced there were a few more items on that list.

Archie's phone buzzed with a text and he hoped it was an ETA from someone who could fix his botched job of making soup, because he didn't want to go all the way back to the kitchen.

It was from Betty.

'Hey, how are you doing? How's Jug?'

They were officially no longer fighting since Jughead had been found, but they'd never talked about all that had happened. Betty seemed to regard everything as trumped by Jughead's reappearance and she acted like it was all suddenly fine and normal, but Archie was still uncomfortable with her. Especially when she asked him for intel on his roommate.

It wasn't entirely clear whether Jughead and Betty were taking a break to recover, gradually get back into the swing of things, and then resume dating - or if they were effectively broken up by Jughead's 'lost time' or whatever you wanted to call his abduction. Getting back together might be more like 'starting a brand-new relationship' under the circumstances, and Archie kind of didn't want that to be under the false pretenses of Archie's narrated version of Jughead.

Or maybe he was assuming too much power in the situation. He couldn't tell.

It just seemed weird. Archie got the sense that Betty felt she should know more and be closer to everything, but if Jughead wasn't sharing stuff… It was all so messed up, and Archie didn't want to betray a confidence he might not even realize existed.

At this point he simply didn't know what Jughead thought was private. Removing the closet door? The fact that Jughead's nighttime screams were often begging _for _Brandon's return? Maybe Betty would be interested in hearing about the trial and error his dad and FP had gone through when they had foolishly thought that trying to wake Jug from nightmares might be helpful - and learned in the process that he should probably be registered as a deadly weapon? How about the fact that both Archie and Jughead had gone on the record multiple times about what happened that night in the trailer, but they'd never actually talked to each other about what they'd experienced?

Archie felt like he was just making everything up as he went along, and hoping nothing blew up in his face. Telling Betty things without permission seemed like it could blow up pretty easily.

'I have the flu. :( J is getting socks.'

That seemed neutral enough.

'He needs more than just socks.'

Was he chopped freaking liver?

'I'm fine, thanks for asking.'

'Archie, I'm sorry you're sick. Your best friend needs more than just socks, though. He's going back to school on MONDAY.'

Archie felt too sick to fight with Betty.

'You're right. I'm sure FP and my dad will get Jughead everything he needs.'

'Your mom didn't go?'

What part of 'the flu' didn't she understand? Archie shook his head. His mother wasn't even home with him, but if she'd known he was sick and had the option of staying with him, then wouldn't that be the better place for her to be than picking out pencil cases at the mall?

Archie was definitely too sick to think straight. This was getting dangerous, and he thought carefully about his next text.

'No. She's in yet another meeting to make sure nobody at school will bully Jughead.'

'Good. Have you spoken to the Bulldogs about looking out for him?'

Archie thought about turning his phone off to forestall any more conversation about how Jughead's slightest comfort was infinitely more important than his own illness. Or attempting yet again to explain why asking the Bulldogs to keep an eye on Jughead was counterproductive - and unnecessary. But his dad might call. He simply set the phone screendown and rolled over to try and fall asleep.

Archie didn't wake up when everyone else got home for the evening, and when he did finally awaken he realized it must be three or four am - because Jughead had already started his usual moaning precursor to waking up the whole household with his nightly screaming.

Archie pulled the pillow over his head and tried to block out the incoherent rambling coming from Jug. He just wanted this miserable night to be over already.

**00000**

Fred and Mary both noticed that Archie was a bit out of sorts on Sunday afternoon, even for having a fairly severe bout of the flu, and so Mary planned a movie night - their tradition whenever Archie was sick - and Fred picked up a family-sized bag of the oyster crackers that Archie was half convinced cured all disease. They were about to present the plan to Archie when they noticed Jughead balancing a pile of supplies as he went up the stairs toward the bedroom he shared with Archie.

"Hon, what do you have there?" Mary decided to take this one.

Jughead looked surprised to have been noticed, despite having garnered quite a few curious stares in town now that the right side of his face was more or less one massive bruise after his Krav adventure. "Pizza. Magazines. A game and a movie."

"We thought we'd have a movie night down here, Jughead," Fred offered. "And I'm not so sure Archie's up to pizza right now."

"Oh." Jughead looked down at the items he'd painstakingly picked out and paid for with his second withdrawal from the account that had been set up for him.

Mary and Fred exchanged a glance as Jughead went to the kitchen to unload his haul onto the kitchen island. He passed them again, this time carrying a glass and a pitcher he'd found in a cabinet and filled with water.

"That was… oddly domestic." Fred shook his head.

"Brandon is apparently a complicated man," Mary said what they were both thinking but typically refrained from saying.

"Yep." Fred didn't say any more. He didn't need FP to catch them saying anything about Brandon in the house.

They went back to setting up for the movie night and didn't comment about it again when all five members of the household gathered in the living room to enjoy soup and pizza.

The boys ended up sitting on the floor, Archie leaning back against the couch with his shoulders resting against his parents' legs. Noticing that, during the movie FP cautiously reached down from where he was sitting in the recliner and drew Jughead's shoulder back toward his own knee so he'd have a back rest as well. FP was relieved and pleased when Jughead accepted the adjustment and willingly leaned into him during the rest of the film.

After the movie, the boys took a turn at the new video game Jughead had brought home for Archie. It had both a three-player and four-player option, which was something they'd been wanting for roping Fred and FP into some of their gaming. Fred and FP protested that they needed their sleep, but Archie had some high hopes for gaming over the summer. It was coming up fast now.

Everyone went to bed feeling better.

Jughead was particularly content. Another note had arrived in Saturday's mail, while they'd been at Krav and then shopping, and he'd finally had a chance to open it earlier in the day. This one said 'Are you able to sleep at night?'

Maybe Brand knew he was heading back to school Monday morning. Jughead put it with the other note, tucked into the back of the History textbook he'd soon be using.

The next morning everyone in the household was surprised to realize that they'd officially made it through their first night since Jughead's return without being awakened.

**00000**

Betty was nervous about school on Monday.

She knew that she should just relax and be there for Jughead in whatever capacity was comfortable for him - advice that was eerily reminiscent of Kevin's suggestion when Brandon first came to Riverdale - and that meant letting him take the lead and make it clear what he wanted and needed.

Betty couldn't say why she felt so much pressure.

Archie had texted back - finally - to ask Betty to walk to and from school with Jughead. Narrowing her eyes at the text since Archie had blown off a number of her messages the day before, Betty nonetheless replied positively: she'd be outside waiting.

As it turned out, that wasn't necessary.

"Hi," Jughead's expression was tentative but he was frankly staring at her when Betty answered the door to find him there at least thirty minutes early. She tried not to stare back - at the blackened right side of his face. Archie had at least explained that via text, though he had not done it anything approaching justice in the retelling. "I have paperwork."

"Oh!" Betty waved Jughead into the house quickly. "I'll just grab my stuff. I should have thought of that."

"Why would you?" Jughead looked around the living room curiously. He hadn't been in the Coopers' home since he'd gotten back from debriefing. There was a book lying on the couch and he wondered if Betty had read it. It was good, and he had some questions about her opinion of the ending. If he could somehow manage a coherent conversation at some point.

"Good morning, Jughead," Alice Cooper was eating breakfast at the dining room table and raised an eyebrow at his battered face. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thanks," Jughead shot her an assessing glance, correctly reading a mixed message in her tone.

"Oh, are we done with complete sentences now?"

"Mom!" Betty shot her mother a scandalized look as she grabbed two pieces of toast. "Jug, are you hungry?"

Jughead was, but he didn't want to slow them down. "I'm fine."

"Well, now I _know_ something's wrong," Alice scoffed.

"Mom," Betty's tone was sharp. She left it at that, though; she recognized a losing battle.

Betty led Jughead out of the house and leaned around him - almost but not quite brushing against his hip - to close the door behind them. "Ignore her. Bryn Carter's poisoning her with lies about her ex-husband, and Alice Carter is of course being herself-,"

"I haven't seen her," Jughead perked up at the mention of Alice. He wasn't observing a full media blackout like he'd been advised to do during debrief, a common practice for kidnapping survivors, but he'd been persuaded not to view or read anything about himself or Brand.

Much as it killed him, knowing he could just pull up videos and hear all about what Brand was up to these days, he steered clear. He'd privately added Alice to the blackout list, since he was not sure what the consequences might be for certain people asking about how he knew her. Jughead wasn't stupid; his internet activity was monitored by at least three adults, and probably more since the FBI was far from thrilled that Mrs. Andrews had sprung him from 'extended debriefing' - and they could always revisit the idea of bringing charges to try and get what they wanted out of him.

"How is Alice?"

Betty drew in a deep breath. She wasn't prepared to discuss Alice with Jughead, and she could see all sorts of potential pitfalls here. "Um, I think she's… oka-ay. I'm pretty sure she's doing her own thing and kind of - uh - keeping to herself these days."

Jughead stared at Betty, and she was pretty sure that his disturbingly blank expression was currently hiding rank skepticism about what she'd just said.

"She-," Jughead stopped for a long moment. "I hope she's okay."

"Jughead," This was pretty much the opposite of the plan to 'play it cool and let Jughead set the tone,' but Betty found that she couldn't help herself, "what _happened_ with Alice?"

Jughead shrugged helplessly. This was one topic he couldn't touch, even if he wanted to. Everyone in Riverdale knew he and Alice had met in Toronto, but he'd never told Brand what had happened with Alice, so it wasn't part of their 'legend.' Any risk that some stray detail might mess with the legend - somehow eventually connect events in Toronto back to Rose - was unacceptable. That could mean losing everything.

And now, knowing that Alice was related to Daniel, had been living in his house during her visits, and yet had probably saved his life on the street in Toronto - Jughead simply had no way of predicting the outcome of opening that Pandora's Box.

Maybe they'd be friends now. They could figure things out together and go back to just being two people hanging out and teasing each other. Jughead actually looked forward to finding out - to seeing someone from his Toronto life - to reconnecting with the best of the days he'd spent in Canada. Thinking of Alice made him think of the bookstore, the parks, and his well-worn stomping grounds around the town home.

"Well," Betty decided not to press the issue right now, "I'm sure Mrs. Andrews figured out a plan with Principal Weatherbee."

Jughead wondered about that cryptic statement during the rest of their walk to school. He didn't dare ask more questions, since he'd already refused to share information and knew only too well how revealing even a seemingly logical, innocent question could be - and how tenacious Betty could be when she wanted information. It sounded like Betty thought he'd understand her comment, too, and he truly had no idea what it meant.

It sounded ominous, though.

**00000**

Alice was not overly concerned with Jonas' return to school. Jughead's, whatever. She'd made her position perfectly clear, and she was sure he'd respect that. He wouldn't want to run the risk of making her any angrier; she still had some unspent ammunition when it came to Jonas Davies.

Nevertheless, she thought it was really weird that he'd obviously cut his hair quite recently so that he looked exactly like he had when he and Agent Davies had been living in Toronto. Alice just bet he was loving the publicity and was trying as much as possible to look the part of the 'accidental hero' whose one photo (an admittedly great shot of Jonas and Brandon together on the steps of Jameson's mansion) was plastered across the media. At least he wasn't wearing sunglasses in the hallways of Riverdale High.

The right half of his face looked like one large bruise, though, which spoiled the effect. Alice had to admit _that_ didn't look like something he'd planned or wanted, and she couldn't help but wonder how safe he actually was with his recovering alcoholic father. The media had wondered the same thing about FP generally, though of course the bruise would never appear in any news stories.

Alice was still reeling from everything that had occurred. It had been extremely disturbing to hear that her father had been involved in illegal activities - though it also explained _so much_ about her parents' divorce - but when Alice had gotten into her mother's copies of the court documents detailing the wild claims that Jonas - Jughead - had made, that had been a bridge too far. Quite a few bridges, in fact. Her dad? Kidnapping him off the street, holding him prisoner in their house, and then getting drunk and nearly killing him in their _dining room_?

It was obvious to Alice that Jughead had never even met her father if these were the lies he'd come up with. He'd apparently actually been in the house, since investigators had come up with his fingerprints on the hardwood floor, but that was all Alice believed at this point.

The money quote had been when Jughead compared her father unfavorably with a known torturer. Because apparently Jameson was way creepier than Alice had ever suspected. And yet, according to Jughead, Jameson's _literal acts of torture_ were not as scary as time spent with Daniel Carter. That didn't even make sense in this universe.

And it wasn't going to help their court case.

This was not uncomplicated, though. Shortly after her father's arrest, Alice had suddenly recalled a clear memory of two men carrying a large duffel bag outside of her father's house in Toronto.

That was surprisingly hard to discount.

Jughead had said that he was blindfolded - hooded, whatever - and he wasn't sure of the details beyond his allegedly being carried in some sort of bag that morning.

It made Alice feel sick, though.

Jughead was also sixteen, not eighteen, and they'd all be juniors together in the fall. He'd been dating Betty Cooper when he first met Agent Davies and was pulled into the world of undercover work. Everything Alice had thought she'd known was wrong.

When Alice had first met Jonas she'd thought she had discovered something special that nobody else had been clever enough to see in him - only to find out that everyone already knew he was special, had dibs on his friendship, and oh - by the way - he would destroy your family and your life and then live it up as a hero while lying through his teeth about your father.

The entire village was uniting for Jughead, when even Alice's two parents wouldn't do that for her - though they were unexpectedly uniting for each other these days - and it was hard to watch.

And yet.

Alice knew he hadn't faked those bruises on his wrists. Tales of Agent Davies were vastly downplaying his abuse if those had come from him. The men who had grabbed Jonas - Jughead - from the street had been real criminals. They were all either dead or in prison now; Alice had read everything she could find in her mother's file cabinet, hoping never again to be caught flat-footed when it came to Jonas, and been surprised by how thoroughly Toronto had been emptied of anyone involved in this whole thing.

Leaving her father alone to stand trial for anything and everything that could be pinned on him. A trial that _might _begin in a year or two if they were lucky.

But on that day in Toronto, during those moments of losing his fight against the man with the broken nose, Jonas had been so scared. Whatever else had or had not happened in Toronto, Alice knew for a fact that at one point he'd been running on foot, all alone, away from murderers who had been hell-bent on taking away his freedom.

Well, he'd been almost alone. Alice had been there, too.

Some help she'd been.

But she'd been there. And as far as Alice could tell, there was not a single account, not any interview or official report, that made any mention of her at all. That might be due to her fathers' lawyers and her age, but Alice suspected there was more to it.

For some reason Jughead had erased her from the story of his life in Toronto. Alice didn't know why, but she did know that he was an accomplished liar.

And everyone else would eventually figure that out, one way or another.

**00000**

Betty hadn't assumed that the day would go perfectly smoothly, but she sincerely thought her head might explode when she saw a group of Bulldogs brush roughly past Jughead in the hallway in the morning. It had also sounded like someone made a comment about Jughead being two-faced, or maybe they were comparing him to the comic book character Two-Face because of his bruises. Either way, Betty was incensed.

"Gentlemen?"

Apparently she wasn't the only one who had noticed.

Principal Weatherbee was hovering in the hallway, something he intended to do more frequently over the next few days, and he folded his arms as he approached the boys.

"We were just welcoming him back. You know, since Archie can't be here today," Chuck Clayton smiled from the back of the pack of athletes and reached to sling an arm around Jughead to demonstrate his good will - and nearly clotheslined him, since Jughead hadn't stopped walking.

Jughead didn't miss a beat and his expression didn't change when he dodged the arm that was suddenly in his face and continued toward his next class.

"Jughead Jones?" Weatherbee realized that something was off and used his full name to get his attention. "Is everything all right?"

Jughead turned back then, as if realizing for the first time that he was there. That anyone was there.

"What?"

"The Bulldogs were 'welcoming' you?" Weatherbee repeated Chuck's words.

"I'm sorry," Jughead looked over at the Bulldogs, as if surprised to see them there. "Thanks. Hi."

"That's not-," Principal Weatherbee stopped then, deciding not to make him any more of a target for bored and rowdy classmates than he already was. "All right. I guess that's fine, then. Get to class, all of you."

Chuck shot Jughead a confused look.

So did Betty.

**00000**

Jughead made it to lunch. He was a little shaky, and for the first time since his dad had picked him up from debriefing he had to think carefully about his breathing or risk a panic attack.

The school hadn't seemed so small - so crowded - when he'd been here last.

The other students were trying to give him space, he could see that, but there simply wasn't enough room in the hallway, let alone between the desks in the classrooms. There was no good solution: Jughead was trapped in the crowded building, and until he figured out all over again who was friend and who was foe, he was apparently going to be on high alert around pretty much everybody.

He was trying very hard to tune everything out each time he had to navigate the packed halls, calming his breathing and just focusing on where he was going, but that was coming with its own set of problems.

Jughead wished he could talk to Brand about it, to get some advice and perspective and maybe tips on how to be sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt someone in a crowded space where everyone was bumping into everyone. That wish led him to think hopefully about the mail arriving that afternoon. Any contact would be nice right about now.

"Jughead!" Kevin waved him over to his lunch table. "Welcome back! That is quite the shiner, too - Betty did not do it justice."

Jughead blinked, recalling with a visceral feeling of loss that the last time he'd shared a meal with Kevin he'd been with Brand. But he was deeply grateful that he didn't need to hesitate now: Kevin was someone who was firmly in the 'friend' category. Jughead waved back and carried his lunch to Kevin's table. Betty and Veronica would surely find him; they were only one table over from their usual spot.

"How's Joaquin?" Jughead asked, hoping this would get Kevin rolling for a while and take some of the conversational burden off of himself.

"Oh, he's great," Kevin smiled, but moved on quickly. "More importantly, though, how are _you_ doing?"

"Uh," Jughead sensed that 'fine, thanks' was not going to cut it. He wasn't sure he had much more, though. "I'm… not panicking."

Kevin laughed appreciatively, though it hadn't really been meant as a joke. "Always a good place to start."

"Jug!" Betty had found him, sure enough. She seemed more relaxed now that they were in a group, doing something familiar. Jughead realized with a jolt that he was jealous of her ease - jealous that this was still familiar and normal to her. "How are your classes going so far?"

"Did I hear correctly that you have Ms. Cardell for History?" Veronica added as she joined them as well at the table. "She's probably still spitting mad at you after the fall. That was epic." Veronica leaned forward and lowered her voice slightly to ask more seriously, "How have you been?"

This was turning into twenty questions.

Or maybe it was perfectly normal conversation, and Jughead was simply unable to keep up. He suddenly couldn't tell.

"Good, yes, and okay. I guess," Jughead dropped his eyes and took a big bite of his sandwich so he would not be expected to elaborate.

"So-o," Kevin took the hint, "Betty, do you have summer plans?"

"I do not," Betty smiled at him, approving of the smooth-ish change in topic. "I've been kind of hoping to get away for a week or two, and my parents are talking about a beach vacation. Nothing is firmed up yet, though. I'll have some hours working at _The Register_ too. I'm officially saving for college since my parents said they'll consider buying me a car for the fall."

"Oooh, nice," Veronica lit up. "Will you get to pick it out?"

"I don't know. Hopefully. Jug, will you look at cars with me if I do?"

Jughead tried to ignore the feeling that they were heading back into a bonus round of twenty questions. This was just normal conversation, he reminded himself. It was all good.

"Yeah, sure," Jughead tried for a smile.

Kevin's eyes widened and he snorted with involuntary laughter. His desperate attempt to choke it back turned into an expression of horror. "Oh God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh. Your face, though. You, uh, really ought to work on that."

Jughead stared at Kevin.

"Seriously, Keller?"

"_Oh_, yeah," Kevin covered his mouth guiltily when another snort of laughter escaped. "I'll try and get a picture next time if you want. That was… yikes."

Betty had begun kicking Kevin under the table and was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

"Betty, you can stop kicking me. He clearly needed to be told," Kevin turned back to Jughead. "For now, maybe just... don't try to smile unless you actually _feel_ like smiling."

Veronica kicked Kevin now.

"Okay, fine-," Kevin threw his hands up in defeat. "Do whatever you want. Fake it 'til you make it, but for all our sakes please spend some time in front of a mirror. If that shows up in our yearbook..." Kevin was dissolving into helpless laughter now.

"Was it really that bad?" Jughead was sincerely curious now.

"_Yes_!" Kevin laughed even harder, and now Veronica and Betty were having a hard time maintaining straight faces against the pull of his infectious laughter.

"Archie will think I'm nuts if I do that," Jughead actually did feel like smiling now - and as tentative as it was, it did feel a lot more normal. Or he thought so, anyway.

Now Betty laughed, and Veronica couldn't keep from giggling along with her friends.

"Wait, was that bad too?" Jughead frowned.

"No, no. It was perfect, Juggie," Betty was still giggling, "It's just… a relief to laugh, I think."

"Oka-ay," Jughead eyed them all suspiciously, which set them all off again. His tentative smile returned. He'd missed this.

**00000**

Classes seemed to go smoothly enough for the rest of the day. Jughead kept his head down and his breathing even, and he ignored the teachers who didn't know him and apparently didn't recall the many mailings and meetings they'd no doubt been subjected to about him - and so called him "Jonas" or "Mr. Davies" based on the roster in front of them. It was harder to ignore the teachers who had apparently come down with a bad case of amnesia. Ms. Cardell in particular.

Jughead had kept his head down then too, though, hoping that was the best strategy; summer vacation was coming up, after all.

By the end of the day Jughead was eager to see what had come in the mail and then take Trigger out for some exercise. Walking home with Betty was thankfully easy. They talked just a bit about classes, and Betty seemed to be realizing that letting the silence grow wasn't a bad thing right now.

Betty did seem to be trying out filling some of that silence with stories about teachers and things Jughead had missed, too, since that might become relevant now that he was back in school - though they were oddly focused on Chuck Clayton and the Bulldogs, and Jughead wasn't sure why she was filling him in on their typical bullying exploits. _He_ was the one who'd been rude to _them_ in the hallway and Jughead only hoped that wouldn't make anything awkward for Archie with the team.

Overall, though, it was more progress in one day than Jughead felt he'd made in the weeks since debrief had ended.

Jughead wasn't going to practice smiling in front of the mirror, though, no matter what Kevin said.

"Want to work on homework together?" Betty offered hopefully. "I know you're probably behind and maybe feeling some pressure. I'm happy to help. Or just work quietly. Whatever you prefer."

"I was, uh, going to walk Trig," Jughead tried to picture studying with Betty after the marathon of close quarters all day. He had the distinct feeling that he should quit while he was ahead, and not risk anything happening now that his tolerance for stressful interactions - even good ones - was almost depleted. "Walk together tomorrow, though?"

Betty's face had fallen slightly at the mention of Trigger, and Jughead wondered if that was because she thought it was an excuse to blow her off - because he'd mentioned Trigger - or because she was worried about his grades.

"Walking together sounds great, Jug," Betty lit up.

Likely the first one, then, Jughead decided.

He had a plan, too: he would text later this evening to ask if Betty wanted to walk to school early again. This time they could just walk for a while, since he would not have paperwork to deal with, and that would allow them to talk - or not talk - in the morning, when Jughead still had the energy to focus and there weren't so many other people around to make him tense. That would also mark their first text message contact since he'd gotten back. Jughead suspected that messaging might be easier than speaking face to face, at least for now.

It felt good to have a plan. However pathetic that plan might be.

Jughead felt his natural smile quirk up briefly when he waved goodbye. He decided to just dump his backpack in the hallway when he checked the mail so that he could get to Trigger right away. The homework had been easier than he remembered it being, particularly in math, and Jughead figured he didn't need to worry about it too much. He hurried into the house and slung his backpack into the corner.

"Jughead," FP had begun his new job at Andrews' Construction now that Jughead was back in school, so Jughead was startled to hear him call his name from the kitchen.

Jughead gave the pile of mail a longing glance before he went to see what his dad wanted.

"There's been a credible threat." FP was not alone in the kitchen: Fred and Mary had come home from their work and commitments as well, and two FBI agents Jughead knew altogether too well from debriefing were drinking coffee at the kitchen island.

Jughead sighed. This probably meant no walk today.

**00000**

**I hope you enjoyed! I'm going to try to get another chapter up this week as well, since I know how it is with cliffhangers... Review if you are able, and thank you again for the great notes this week!**

**-Button**


	4. Chapter 4

**No more cliffhanger. :)**

**Thanks for the reviews as well! aut189, I enjoyed hearing your visceral response to the notes arriving. It is definitely harder for Jughead to make adjustments when his head is even a little bit back in Toronto!**

**Thanks also Living Lucid Dream - it was great to hear that Archie was sympathetic. He's in such a tough position, and this has gone on for so long. Immune system = done, and navigating between Jug/Betty = get me out of here. Also, while writing this story I feel like a paranoid nut all the time since I'm watching all of the possible narrative threads spool out as each decision is made. So you're in good (or very, very bad?) company on that one! I kind of enjoyed S1 Alice Cooper's ability to cross lines and then dare anyone to say anything, and that dialogue was ringing in my head so loudly that I probably should have done a little work to make sure it's not actually show dialogue ('cuz that's super necessary in a fanfic ;). You said it perfectly: Alice is a wild card. Always has been, and probably always will be. She's working through her demons one chapter at a time, and they are powerful ones. **

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

"Ernie; Burt Macklin," Jughead greeted the FBI agents and with some effort managed to let his eyes slide over them dismissively.

"I suppose we should just be glad that he talks now." The second agent spoke drily. "Nice face, Jones."

Jughead glared in response, turning his head so that the bruising was slightly less visible to the agents.

"Actually, this is Agent Donn," Fred introduced the agent who had spoken, "and this is Agent Russell."

FP was already massaging his eyes and technically Jughead hadn't even uttered a complete sentence yet. "I'm guessing he already knows that."

"I've got to walk Trig, so can we hurry this up?" Jughead folded his arms, but nobody missed his step toward FP - and away from the FBI agents.

"You understand what a credible threat is?" Agent Russell glowered seriously.

"It's imminent. They're capable of following through. Grievous bodily injury," Jughead had adopted a flip tone, but he took a second step toward FP. "Probably within the last hour or you would have picked me up from school."

"I told you he was listening," Agent Donn seemed to be the less uptight of the two, but it was a near thing. "It's so weird to hear him actually respond, though."

All three Riverdale adults looked askance at his use of the third person to refer to Jughead as if he were not standing right there.

"So no, you're not walking your dog," Agent Russell continued, gesturing to Vegas. Nobody corrected him.

"How long are you here for?" This time when Jughead stepped toward FP his left shoulder disappeared behind his father. FP seemed to realize what he was doing then and draped a protective arm around his son to stop him from moving any further. "Because I'm not going anywhere with you."

FP's arm tightened around Jughead at his words. The FBI had not just scared the adults with their attempt to prolong the debriefing; Jughead's body language was practically screaming with a plea for protection. And apparently Jughead didn't think he had the ability to stop the agents on his own if they did want to take him somewhere.

"Nobody's talking about you going anywhere," Mary interjected now. "Sheriff Keller's coming right now to arrange for an officer to stay here for a bit. Just until the immediate danger passes. These gentlemen came as a courtesy, to talk about some strategies we can implement to make sure we don't run any unnecessary risks."

"Su-ure you did," Jughead's eyes narrowed. "You two specifically."

It was at times like this when FP, Fred, and Mary most wished that much of Jughead's debriefing hadn't been classified.

"What do you mean, these two 'specifically'?" Fred asked, looking back and forth from Jughead to the agents. "How do you know each other?"

"We were brought in right about the time he stopped talking," Agent Russell looked at Jughead accusingly.

FP felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up in response to the vaguely threatening glance. He willed his arm to relax; if his grip on Jughead got any tighter it would become painful.

"No, you look familiar," Fred suddenly placed Agent Russell. "Weren't you outside of Jameson's house, in Toronto? You spoke with Jughead and Brandon when they first came out after the bust."

The agents were silent then, though Agent Donn's expression held a hint of a smirk now.

Mary had a different concern. "Jughead, did these two mistreat you in any way?"

"Oh no, we're old friends," Jughead's tone was sarcastic and he stepped away from FP now. "Permission to leave the kitchen? Or will I be arrested if I try to leave the room?"

The agents were silent.

"Of course not, honey," Mary glared impatiently at the agents, whom she'd expected to give immediate reassurances. "You're free to go at any time. But these gentlemen took the time to come here and-,"

Jughead was already leaving the kitchen.

Everyone looked at each other, not entirely sure how to proceed now that the target of the threat had abandoned the meeting.

The front door opened.

"_Do not leave this house, boy!_" FP didn't move to see if he was obeyed. The door closed again.

"You need to go check?" Agent Donn gestured in the direction of the front hall. They couldn't see the front door from where they were standing.

"Nope," FP didn't blink as he stared down the agent.

A moment later they heard heavy footfalls going up the stairs.

"Can you handle the rest of this, Fred?" FP asked. He could feel a tremor in his hands and wasn't sure if it was a symptom of feeling like he'd been threatened - or one of rage due to getting this glimpse into the dynamics of Jughead's debriefing. Either way, he needed to get out of the kitchen before he acted on it. "I've got to go talk to Jughead about company manners. Among other things."

"I've got this," Fred assured him. Mary folded her arms in solidarity.

"So, strategies for minimizing risk, huh? Let me get a pen and some paper," Fred smiled politely. He'd noticed the tells that FP was close to losing his temper and was very grateful that Sheriff Keller would be arriving shortly.

**00000**

Archie was still feeling fairly sick, but nothing could have kept him from sitting at the top of the stairs to eavesdrop on the conversation that took place in the kitchen. When Jughead stomped angrily up the stairs, Archie gestured for him to hurry. The odds that they had more than a few moments without parental oversight were basically nil.

"What's going on, Jug?" Archie hoped it was a secret mission of some kind, but unfortunately it had sounded way too combative for that to be likely. "Usually they just, like, send a deputy and he falls asleep watching the place."

Archie liked crime television.

"I don't want them harassing you too," Jughead's voice was barely a whisper. "Come on." Jughead grabbed Archie's arm and hustled him back to their shared bedroom.

"What? Why would they hassle me?" Archie was getting even more excited. "Do you know government secrets?"

"No!" Jughead was still whispering and he gestured for Archie to lower his own voice.

"Boys?" FP had been right on their heels and both teens startled when he spoke. He stood in the doorway for a long moment before he stepped into the room. His voice was strained when he spoke again.

"Just now, with those agents-," FP shook his head as if dislodging an image that was bothering him from his mind. "What was that all about? Anyone can see they aren't here to protect you, Jug, or not just to protect you. Hell, they weren't even _trying_ to be straight with you just now."

Jughead avoided eye contact. FP's sharp intuition could get them all into a lot of trouble if he wasn't careful.

"I'm also getting the distinct impression that with them there wasn't a lot of emphasis on 'autonomous decision making.'" FP stared even harder at Jughead. "And, what with them being FBI and all, I'm betting you couldn't exactly fight back."

True.

"So the only thing you _could_ do-" FP was guessing now, but it was an educated guess, "-was stop talking."

Less true.

Jughead had implied that the decision to stop speaking had been in protest over the 'suggestion' that debriefing be extended. The FBI had ultimately managed to hold him for several extra - seemingly endless - days while Mary fought on his behalf.

The FBI had claimed that they wanted to extend the debriefing _because_ he'd stopped talking.

Everyone knew that the stories couldn't both be true. Almost nobody knew the reality: neither story was true.

The number of people who knew exactly what had played out during that crucial moment in debriefing when everything had gone to hell could probably be counted on one hand. That number included the two agents currently standing in Fred Andrews' kitchen.

Jughead hadn't been talking then, though, and he certainly wouldn't be talking now - not when anything he said could get more people into trouble.

The silence was so long that Archie began to wonder if he should leave the room to give them privacy. Even though it was his own room. And he had the flu.

"All right, then. You've clearly made your choice." FP's tone had hardened. "But you're going to have to give me something."

Jughead braced himself, letting his expression become studiously blank once again.

FP took a deep breath before continuing. When he spoke again it was a command more than a statement: "I want to hear about the good days in Toronto."

Jughead wasn't sure he'd ever done a true double take before, but he certainly did one now.

"Come on now, Jughead, what _exactly_ about that surprises you?" FP's tone radiated anger now; Jughead's confusion had been obvious, and apparently somehow offensive. "You won't tell me anything about the bad things that happened. They're conveniently classified. The freaking men in black are standing in the kitchen making threats I don't understand - and for some godforsaken reason you're protecting them by keeping quiet. So, fine. You win."

FP's tone was getting angrier as he spoke. "But don't you think for one second that you're off the hook: _I'm_ your father and you are not shutting me out any longer. I may not get to hear about the bad stuff right now, but the way I see it you have no excuse for not telling me about every good thing that happened to you." FP folded his arms.

Jughead was still confused. Moreover, he was pretty sure that his dad was lying.

All anyone had wanted to hear so far was that he'd spent every moment terrified and desperately trying to escape - pretty much around the clock. Everyone wanted to hear about intercepted letters written in morse code, being gagged and held at gunpoint whenever the mailman came, or maybe Brand hobbling him with a sledgehammer like he was in a Stephen King novel. Because that was the only scenario they could accept.

It was downright chilling when he thought about even his friends' 'preferred' version of his life in Toronto.

Jughead couldn't tell anyone that there had been threats of danger to friends - family - if he'd stayed in Riverdale or tried to return... because he couldn't tell them why the danger was now gone. Any mention of the deal with Rose was strictly off-limits. Slipping up could mean everything falling apart, and probably faster than Jughead could bring himself to imagine.

So, while it was a relief to hear that his dad might be rethinking his position on whether it was preferable for Jughead to be tied up in a closet or getting along with Brand, Jughead was pretty sure that FP didn't actually mean that he wanted to hear about their in-jokes. Their favorite movies. The long hours they'd spent together, toiling over math textbooks - or just talking.

Jughead definitely couldn't tell him that he missed Brand constantly, painfully, like a phantom limb. Or that even the joy of having a real life again - his family, friends, and now Trigger - was often far more stressful in a single hour than their simple life in Toronto had been for days at a time.

And he missed that. He would never trade it back, not in a million years, but Jughead desperately wished it didn't need to be all or nothing.

He'd settle for just a phone call. Even criminals got one phone call.

"Are you crying?" FP sounded horrified.

"No," Jughead quickly wiped away the tear he hadn't noticed forming.

Archie tried not to bounce nervously on his feet. This was getting more awkward, and he honestly didn't know what to make of the idea that Jughead had been happy during any part of his months in Toronto. That had bothered him ever since they'd found Jughead. Archie knew he'd made friends with Alice; Archie didn't understand why Jughead hadn't just asked to borrow her cell phone and called someone to pick him up.

He was under strict orders not to ask. But now he wondered if there was wiggle room on that edict, since FP had apparently come up with a workaround on the 'wait for Jughead to be ready to talk' marching orders they had all received.

"It's time that we got our own place. Soon." FP's tone was still brusque with anger, though he was eyeing Jughead carefully now. His words came out like threats: "Right now we need to figure out what this 'credible threat' means, but then you'd better get ready, boy. Because we're going to spend more time together. Doing things that you enjoy."

FP's tone was suddenly sharp enough to cut glass. This was not something he'd been told directly, but at this point it was not a guess: "Like you did with Brandon."

Jughead tried not to wince at his own mental image of re-creating some version of the Toronto row house in Riverdale. That wasn't what anyone wanted. Maybe some bookshelves would be good, though. A treadmill and some weights.

Another idea occurred to him. His dad was clearly furious with him, but he'd also asked for something: stories from the last seven months.

That meant Jughead had at least a little leverage.

"Could we maybe… go on a vacation?"

Archie's eyes widened at his best friend's rookie mistake: how had Jughead made it this far without knowing that you never ask for anything before tempers had cooled? He was even more shocked when FP simply weighed the idea for a few long moments and then nodded once.

"Dude, can I come too?" Archie figured he should at least remind everyone that he was standing right there.

FP laughed briefly then, though Jughead just shot a look at his best friend. The tension seemed to be broken, in any event. They settled in to wait for Sheriff Keller's arrival. And discussed possible vacation plans.

**00000**

Sheriff Keller was deeply disappointed to hear that there had been a threat made against Jughead. It all sounded to him like nothing more than a deeply troubled person blowing off steam at something - someone - in the news without realizing he'd made a few foolish moves that crossed lines and triggered alarms. But the person was definitely capable of following through and owned quite a few firearms, so precautions would be taken.

Keller was well aware that Jughead had just gotten back to Riverdale a few weeks ago, and only returned to school that very morning. With a high-profile case like Jughead's had turned into, vague and spurious threats were unfortunately very common - but since this one had legs, Keller was going to ask for the loan of someone from Greendale's larger force. That would give them forty-eight hours of coverage, and an officer could drive Jughead - or more likely both boys - to and from school for the next two days.

That should cover the high-risk timeframe, getting them past most of the danger. Keller understood the FBI had even shown their support by dropping by to reassure and counsel FP and the Andrews family on keeping Jughead and Archie well protected.

"Can we request a canine unit?" Jughead was sitting on the staircase when the sheriff entered the Andrews' house. One half of his face was so bruised that Keller almost wondered if he'd come too late to intervene on the threat. He knew he'd have received a call if that had been the case, though, so apparently this was… normal.

The FBI agents were leaving as he walked in; Keller waved his thanks for their courtesy in staying until he arrived.

"We don't need another dog in the mix," FP shook his head at Keller, widening his eyes at the sheriff in a silent message of warning over his son's shoulder. He was sitting a few steps above Jughead on the stairs, and their postures were identical - they looked every inch father and son.

"Sorry, Jughead," Tom had an easy answer for that one. "Those are way out of our price range. Besides, don't you already have Vegas?" Keller smiled as the elderly dog snuffled up against him.

"Maybe I should ask about borrowing Trig," Jughead looked thoughtful.

"Why don't you meet the guy first and see how it goes?" FP's tone held a warning note, but when he rested a hand on Jughead's shoulder it looked more reassuring than restraining to the sheriff.

It was good to see FP taking more of an interest in his son, even if it was unfortunate that it had taken these sorts of circumstances to get him to quit drinking. Keller's eyes returned to Jughead's bruised face, but he assumed - hoped - Fred Andrews would have been all over the situation if FP had been responsible for messing up his son's face like that. He figured he'd look into that later, quietly, when they weren't in the middle of a situation.

Keller felt responsible for Jughead in more ways than one.

The sheriff would continue to do what he could to support the Jones family through the immediate circumstances, and also the long-term transitions they were undoubtedly stumbling their way through. It had been a shock to hear that Agent Davies had been embedded undercover in their family unit without their knowledge or consent, and Tom was deeply grateful that things had ended as well as they had, all things considered.

Keller would be having a long chat with Davies if he ever showed his face in Riverdale again. There had been ample opportunity for them to work together to find a better solution to many of the challenges he'd related in the press over the past few weeks. They'd spent enough time together that it should have been clear that there would be local support. Just for a start, Keller would gladly have taken Jughead in for the weeks after Davies had realized the boy was at risk.

Oh well. It could be surprisingly difficult to work with the FBI even at the best of times, so expecting international agencies such as Brandon's to be any more receptive to overtures of cooperation was probably unreasonable optimism.

Tom realized what FP had said a few beats too late. "Officer Thomas is a woman, actually; Gina Thomas. She's apparently brought a lot of energy to Greendale's force since she started there last month. I'm going to stick around here until she arrives. She'll be the officer that you see the most of over the next two days."

Sheriff Keller figured it was better not to fully explain that this sort of detail was reserved for the newest, least experienced officers to spend their precious hours on, since the risk was minimal that anything would actually happen - and typically just the presence of any uniformed officer deterred anyone who was foolish enough to try following through on a credible threat of this nature.

They moved to the living room so everyone could sit comfortably while waiting for Officer Thomas.

There was a long silence and Keller wondered if he should suggest a topic of conversation or wait to follow the Jones' lead. He preferred to wait and see what he could learn about the situation through their choice of topic, but the lull in conversation was becoming awkward.

"Uh, Sheriff Keller... are emotional support vests legal for any pet that gives… emotional support?" Jughead finally broke the silence, and his tone was so casual that Keller immediately assumed that this had already been a point of contention in the household.

"Boy, you had better not be asking what I think you're asking-," FP tried to head Jughead off at the pass.

"It's okay, FP," Tom figured this was as good a topic as any for shooting the breeze until Thomas arrived. It was also reassuring to hear that Jughead's mind was on mundane topics. "That depends on a number of factors, Jughead. Do you have a particular pet in mind? Does it have any special training?"

"His name's Trig-," FP shot Jughead a look at his conspicuous use of the dog's nickname, but the teen avoided eye contact, "and he does a few interesting things."

Sheriff Keller was soon telling stories about the involved training of service animals - and of untrained animals causing thousands of dollars of damage - and Jughead was listening raptly.

FP was glad for the mental break. He took advantage of it by reflecting on the account that had been set up by an anonymous donor for them 'to get back on their feet.' There was more than enough money for a down payment on a house in the neighborhood. FP hadn't seriously considered accepting the money before now, but it could be that Jughead would be better protected just by being close to his friends. Closer to Keller and to school.

It would mean a huge adjustment for FP, and he'd already made a lot of those concerning the Serpents to make sure there would be no hiccups with regaining custody of Jughead. It also meant feeling like somewhat less of a provider since he would be getting ahead with someone else's money.

It could also mean going on a vacation this summer, though, and as with his thoughts about getting a dog, FP had a sense that this was going to be important.

Wreck diving in the Great Lakes, FP thought in bemusement. Where did Jughead come up with this stuff?

**00000**

**I hope you enjoyed! Now we're really wading into the plot, one complexity at a time. :-D I'm loving the reviews, as always, and I hope your week is going very well! :)**

**-Button**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am officially less worried about overly long chapters this week. This one has unity, though, and I think it holds up. You'll have to let me know!**

**Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews! Aut189, it is great to hear you're enjoying. I had a blast with this chapter and I hope it does not disappoint!**

**Living Lucid Dream, I'm ready for a graphomania diagnosis this summer. I have been shocked too, but this story just keeps pulling me along. :) Ohhh, the debriefing. Will we ever know? (I'm not that mean; it's going to happen. Eventually. :) And yes - poor Jughead, trying to just hang on to anything secure for five minutes! And FP is right there with him. I loved your analysis/overview of where they are and where they're coming from. The jealousy part is so twisted for FP's character in this story. Poor guy. And yes: Tom Keller kicks butt. :-D FP definitely seems reluctant to accept help, though he's not willing to let that impulse mess things up for Jug. I love that dynamic. And yeah, Jughead is trying to meet FP - well, okay, not even CLOSE to halfway, but a small percentage of the way. :)**

**Guest, thank you for the lovely reviews! I was particularly glad you liked FP's movie-watching moment and Kevin's lunch conversation. Both were parts I'd really hoped would make sense. And I can only assume Skeet and Cole (first name basis, yep, naturally) put a lot of time and effort into mirroring their body language because they do a fantastic job on the show. I'm also impressed whenever FP is physically moving Jughead around in a scene and Jughead's body language is all "yeah, this is my life" like it's nothing. I agree about Keller, too - he really felt for Brand and tried to help.**

**And after all that...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Riding to school with a police escort turned out to be complicated.

Archie was feeling almost entirely recovered after another night of sleep, officially had no fever, and had thought it would be fun when Jughead explained the arrangement - that they'd get to ride in the cruiser.

He was only more excited when he met Gina Thomas the next morning and discovered that she was only twenty-one and… almost as pretty as Veronica, as he'd put it to Jughead over a breakfast that had been filled with teasing and blushing laughter. They had just grabbed cereal since neither felt like cooking and their fathers were upstairs, thinking they were being discreet but very obviously having another discussion of 'the situation.' Archie's mother had left early for a meeting and anticipated having a late night as well.

Archie had taken advantage of the lapse in supervision to make a pot of very black coffee. Jughead felt his leg starting to jitter, and both were feeling more than a little hyper from 'disposing of the evidence' as Archie jokingly referred to downing the coffee before their dads came downstairs.

Officer Thomas had sat in the living room all morning, ignoring them and typing on her phone. She'd be trading shifts with two other officers, but would have escort duty to and from school on both Tuesday and Wednesday.

"Maybe you should let Betty see you with her," Archie had a new, caffeine-inspired idea. "Whatever's going on between you two might get cleared up in a hurry if you do."

Jughead sincerely doubted that strategy would achieve anything positive other than entertaining Archie.

"Just keep in mind that she's armed. Don't, like, lay one on her or anything crazy like that."

"What are you even _saying_?" Jughead was too amused by the running patter to be entirely mortified, but he was fairly certain Officer Thomas could hear them from the other room.

They'd been in high spirits when they went out to the car.

"So, is it a requirement that we be handcuffed to ride in the back of a cruiser?" Archie asked with an impish grin. "Because if that's the case, it's gonna have to be me taking one for the team." Archie began stage whispering: "Jug here has unfortunately had more fun with that sort of thing than he could really handle."

Jughead punched Archie in the shoulder, hard, but not with anything approaching his full strength. He was getting better at gauging that.

"Although you should feel _very_ free to rethink that if he gets violent," Archie smiled beatifically.

"Let's go," Officer Thomas sounded so bored that Jughead figured she was projecting at least some of that intentionally. He made eye contact with Archie and quirked his eyebrows toward Thomas encouragingly; they might actually be getting to her, against all odds.

Sure enough, when Officer Thomas opened the back door for them she gamely placed a hand on Archie's head as he got into the backseat. Archie's face-splitting grin made her shake her head like she regretted playing along, but she still went to repeat the motion with Jughead. And then it all went to pieces.

"Whoa - wait - there aren't - aren't there supposed to be door handles?" Jughead was suddenly clutching the side of the vehicle to avoid getting into the backseat.

Before she could overcome her still-fresh training, Thomas pushed Jughead down and into the back of the cruiser.

Jughead came back up swinging before his brain could catch up with his body's response to the situation - but he found himself being tackled and hauled back into the vehicle before he made contact with the officer.

That was when all rational thought was abruptly reduced to just two overwhelming impressions: that he needed to get out of the vehicle immediately and that he needed to keep from hurting Archie in the process.

"Jughead! This is _unnecessary_!"

Archie had instinctively leapt across the backseat and wrapped his arms around his friend when he saw that Jughead was being forced into the vehicle - and the expression that flashed across his face. Now it felt like he was wrestling a wild animal.

Archie was shouting in Jughead's face, trying to get his friend to focus his attention on him so he wouldn't assault a cop and go to prison, when FP and Fred came running out of the house.

Betty and Alice Cooper came running out of their house as well. Hal followed a moment later.

"Chill! Heel! Roll over! Jughead, come on, I'm running out of material here and you're _really strong_," Archie was still managing to hold on while his friend bucked in his grip, but he knew that if Jughead actually turned on him with any of his dirtier moves this would not end well. Archie realized that he could just pull the door shut and they'd both be trapped in the vehicle until Jughead calmed down and someone let them out. That idea honestly scared him, though, so he didn't actually make a move to lock them into the close quarters.

"Let him go!" Fred saw danger to Archie above all else as he flung the front door of the house wide open and bounded down the steps. "Don't hold onto him when he's like that, Archie!"

They'd learned a few things from interrupting nightmares before they'd decided to let Jughead fight through them on his own.

"He's too young for prison!" Archie tried to keep the situation from becoming too serious - too real. "And I'm pretty sure-" Archie grunted with effort when Jughead writhed powerfully in his grip "-he's not actually trying to kill me... Or I'd already be dead."

At Archie's words, Fred felt like ice water had been dumped over the back of his neck; it was a reality they hadn't spoken aloud before, and in that instant Fred knew he would not be able to unsee that possible outcome of taking in the Jones men.

"I've got him," FP was right behind Fred and agreed with Archie's assessment, even at a glance: Jughead was fighting to get free, but he must not be too far gone because he wasn't - yet - trying to injure Archie.

It was just one more sign of how messed up things had become that he'd learned how to tell the difference.

FP hauled his son out of the vehicle and mimicked Archie's posture by pulling him into a restraining bear hug.

Fred immediately examined Archie for injury. He breathed a sigh of relief when Archie just shook his head and he'd observed for himself that at least there weren't any obvious marks on him.

As soon as he was fully out of the vehicle, Jughead's breathing became labored and he stopped struggling.

"Okay," FP felt the resistance melting away and relaxed his grip. "Okay. Jughead, what… What are you _doing_?"

Jughead seemed to become fully aware of what was happening then, and as FP released him he dropped into a crouch and started to slow his breathing to try and bring down the panic attack that was overwhelming him. He took the opportunity to cover his face with his hands, already feeling his face flush dark with horror and embarrassment as the situation computed for him.

"I'm sorry-" Jughead gasped just once for air before he schooled his breathing again. "I- uh - I don't - cars with locks-"

"You're not making any sense, Jughead," Archie offered when the adults looked at each other but did not immediately ask for clarification. He sometimes felt that they took the 'wait until he's ready' directive too literally.

"The doors-" Jughead tried to resist the urge to gasp for air again. "The handles."

"You were in a car with no handles?" Fred guessed. This was quite the game of Charades. Or Taboo. Or something.

"Child locks."

FP's expression turned to stone as a picture began forming in his mind. He'd never believed himself to have an overactive imagination - unlike his son - but with every new partial discovery leaving the details to be sketched in by his mind, FP found that his imagination was proving to have a very dramatic streak.

Officer Thomas sighed and checked her phone, clearly irritated by the whole scene. "You can always just ride in the front."

"O-okay," Jughead replied, trying to get things back on an even keel by being compliant. "The front has door handles? On the inside?"

"Yep."

"I'll just walk," Archie wasn't sure why Jughead was even considering getting back into the cruiser. For his own part, Archie was not interested in any possibility of a repeat performance.

"You know what, boys, let's try something else instead. How about I drive you both to school and Officer Thomas follows?" Fred stepped in now and picked up Jughead's book bag from the floor of the cruiser. "FP?"

"I'll come," FP offered Jughead a hand up from his crouching position and waited patiently when his son didn't reach for it right away. "So... you close doors twice."

Jughead nodded, not making eye contact.

"Smart." FP's tone was dark but approving.

Jughead made eye contact then, and FP could see that he was startled by his response. A moment later he reached up for FP's hand.

FP drew him to his feet with a playful pull at the last moment that lifted the teen's sneakers a few inches off the pavement and brought him stumbling into a quick half-hug. Jughead hadn't thought of it in ages, but was suddenly flooded with memories of them doing that when he'd been small.

"You can apologize on the way to school for scaring Archie, and you should probably thank him for sparing you serious jail time," FP's tone was deadpan as he joked about Archie's statement regarding Jughead going to prison. With a firm hand on the back of his son's neck, FP steered Jughead toward Fred's truck. "I'll be riding with Officer Thomas so we can have a little chat. You can sort things out with her later, since I'm guessing that apology needs to go both ways."

"Pretty much," Archie confirmed - and realized as he did so that he might actually be confirming this for Jughead as well as their dads. His best friend's memory was often really spotty after nightmares, and this had seemed a lot like that. "Jughead said something about the door handles and she must have thought he was messing around, pretending to resist arrest or something, because Officer Thomas pushed him into the backseat. And then-," Archie made a broad gesture with his arms to indicate disaster ensuing.

Officer Thomas glowered but did not contradict him.

"Good boy," FP dropped a hand on Jughead's shoulder, though he wasn't entirely sure why he was feeling relief and literally praising him for making a scene in the street. And then, suddenly, he was sure: "Always fight back if you're being coerced."

Thomas stiffened then, and for the first time seemed to realize that she might be on the hook for more than just a report of teenagers roughhousing in the vehicle.

It was an open question how much of a fight Jughead had put up against Brandon in the months after they'd left Riverdale. FP was conflicted in his feelings about that, since fighting back could easily have ended very badly. Not fighting, though… that was unthinkable. The fact that Jughead only seemed willing to defend himself when in a panicked state, such as waking from a nightmare, or when explicitly told to do so, such as with the Krav instructor, confusingly made this incident comforting.

"We probably need to put some work in on how you do it," FP waited by the door while Jughead climbed into the truck with Archie and Fred, "but I'm never going to tell you not to fight back. Don't you _ever_ get in a car with someone if you're not sure you'll be getting back out."

FP closed the truck door and, when Jughead popped it open momentarily to close it again, FP tapped twice on the window to approve the action before he headed to confront the officer who had disrupted his son's second day back in school.

Fred wasn't sure he entirely agreed with FP's response to what had just played out, but to his discomfort he found that he couldn't blame him for it either. His eyes went to Alice and Betty Cooper, though, who were still standing on the front porch of their house and looked very much like they would assign some blame if they could.

Fred was suddenly very, very glad that he was only responsible for Archie.

**00000**

"Like an animal!" Alice Cooper was on the phone before they were back inside the house.

Betty was still in shock: the last she'd heard, Archie had the flu and Jughead was planning to walk with her to school. Now there was a police officer and Jughead had been in a knock-down fight with Archie in the cruiser - and then they had gotten _out _of the police car and Fred Andrews drove them to school. FP followed with the police.

They obviously would not be walking together, and Betty could not even begin to interpret what she'd just witnessed.

Unlike her mother, apparently.

"There's a story here, mark my words." Alice laughed derisively at whatever was said next. "There comes a point, Bryn; Mary Andrews has her strengths, but the press is still free, whatever she says."

Betty got her backpack. If she'd thought there was a chance she could derail whatever her mother was planning, she'd have made an attempt - but if Bryn Carter was on the other end of the phone, it was fruitless to try. Betty would have better luck addressing the issue with her mother after school, and hopefully by then she'd know what had just happened and could make the argument that it was nothing newsworthy.

Betty really hoped it was nothing newsworthy.

**00000**

Fred pulled up in front of Riverdale High. They were barely on time, so he had only a few moments remaining to tell the boys that he'd join Officer Thomas at the end of the school day to make sure everything went smoothly in the other direction.

He'd learned during the brief drive about the illicit coffee and explained why that was not a good idea for Jughead - for either of them, really - since he was already suffering from anxiety and periodically high blood pressure.

FP was getting out of the cruiser and walking toward Fred's truck when the boys climbed out and slung their bags over their shoulders.

Alice Carter was hurrying toward the school entrance and didn't seem to realize who they were until she was weaving right between Archie and Jughead to pass them on the sidewalk.

"Hey! Alice-," Jughead's expression was suddenly hopeful and there was an odd note in his voice, "I, uh, thought of you... This morning."

Archie's eyebrows shot up. He assumed Jughead wasn't referring to his freak-out in the cop car, but his wording still sounded really weird. And it was Alice Carter.

Fred hurriedly leaned as far toward the passenger side of the truck as he could, trying to see and hear what was happening - it looked like Jughead had just spoken to Alice, and they didn't need another incident. Not today.

"Jug!" FP waved his son toward the school as he approached on the sidewalk. "That is _enough_ for one morning!"

Jughead looked to Archie for backup. "Is it just me or-," Jughead took in Archie's expression. "It is just me, isn't it?"

Alice looked from one hostile face to another, and then to Jughead's painfully confused expression. She fled.

"Hey, you're the one who just talked to Alice Carter," Archie put his hands up as if to keep the whole situation at a distance. "I don't think you hit your head, but I'd believe a stroke right about now."

"Someone really needs to tell me what's going on," Jughead shot a look at his dad and Fred where they now sat in the truck, obviously waiting to make sure they made it into the school without any further incident.

"Right back at you, Jughead," Archie hadn't been angry before, and he even felt somewhat guilty about the coffee - though that had been a relatively innocent mistake - but now irritation surged. "Right back at you."

**00000**

**Yay for more Alice! :) I hope you enjoyed! Drop me a review if you are able, and let me know what you're thinking as things pick up speed. I hope you're enjoying a wonderful weekend!**

**-Button**


	6. Chapter 6

**For me this was an 'oooh, finally!' chapter. I hope you enjoy it as well!**

**Guest, thank you for the encouragement; I might just be too close to the story, but hearing that it is making sense really is helpful! I'm so glad you're enjoying the characterization, too. I like plot, but without characters it's just... a timeline. Archie could really use a break, I think. He's had school, but now Jug will be there as well. Great point about FP assuming that everything is Brand-related, too!**

**Living Lucid Dream, I loved that you enjoyed Archie on coffee. That was fun! And yeah, when Archie realized the obvious move was "close the door so no officer can be assaulted," an instinct of self-preservation finally showed up. Whew! Archie is not the only one losing patience; I agree that Fred is starting to get worn down and realize (like Alice did?) that helping someone affects your own life. Sometimes detrimentally. You were so ahead of the game on the doors, too. :) I was really glad that was noticeable and logical, so last chapter didn't come out of nowhere. :) And you articulate FP's position SO much more clearly than he likely could! Well said. Also, Alice and Alice are definitely both building toward something... :)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead accepted Archie's slightly cold shoulder during school. Actually, that seemed like a very mild response to what had happened in the morning. Jughead was still stunned that he wasn't in a lot more trouble, and he assumed that would change when they went home in the afternoon. For now, though, he was fully distracted: it took all of his concentration to get through classes.

Fred had suggested drinking a lot of water, but hadn't been sure if that would actually help Jughead process the caffeine more quickly and bring his jumpy nerves back down to their 'normal' hypervigilant range. Jughead refilled his water bottle between every class and was starting to feel sick more than anything - but the jitters were slowly subsiding, so he hoped he'd feel less anxious once he'd had lunch.

"Water intoxication is a real thing," Kevin noticed that Jughead was refilling his water bottle for the third time that morning and approached him.

"It doesn't sound real," Jughead capped his water bottle.

"It is. People die every year."

"Fun fact," Jughead gave Kevin a look, but tucked his water bottle away instead of drinking any more.

They began walking together to lunch.

"Do you know if Archie is planning to join the football team workouts again, now that-," Kevin gestured to indicate Jughead, "-you're back and everything? I was thinking about asking him to work out with me over the summer, but it would be better if we could start sooner."

Jughead regarded Kevin silently for a moment. He suspected that their connection via Joaquin and the Serpents and events of the past fall made their conversations easier somehow than with most other people, but that didn't mean he always understood the details. "He stopped going to workouts?"

Kevin raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you rooming with him? How do you not know this?" Kevin moved on quickly when he saw that Jughead had obviously not realized any of this had occurred, let alone been due to his disappearance. "Anyway, I know he's going to need serious conditioning to be competitive for college scouts in the fall, and I'm planning to ramp up my workouts too."

They made their way to Jughead's usual table. Betty and Veronica were there, though Archie was conspicuously absent.

"Hi Jughead," Betty's smile was weird and Veronica was looking at him like she was trying to determine whether he'd been body-snatched.

Oh yeah.

Jughead figured this conversation was officially unavoidable.

"What happened?" Kevin took in everyone's expressions. "Are you holding out on me, Jones?"

"There was a-," Jughead suddenly realized that beginning with the credible threat was going to make the story take forever. He wasn't even sure they'd know what that meant, and the odds were pretty high that they would be more freaked out than was helpful. He self-edited swiftly. "I had too much coffee and we've been temporarily assigned a police escort-" Kevin's expression made it clear that he knew a little more about that than Jughead had expected. Crap. "-because something… came up. Anyway, it's just for today and tomorrow. And I kind of went back to 'Nam in the cruiser this morning."

"You… what?" Veronica seemed to be the only one willing to go there, but the others were not looking any more satisfied than she was with his explanation.

"Panic attack." Jughead didn't make eye contact now. He began shredding his sandwich and eating the turkey out of it. He was ravenous, but his stomach was still upset from the strong coffee and excessive amounts of water.

"That was a _panic attack_?" Betty wasn't sure whether it was good news - she at least understood the basics of what a panic attack was - or bad news: she had a vague sense that those could come on unexpectedly and sometimes without any real trigger. That was a terrifying possibility considering what she'd seen that morning.

"What was?" Kevin was looking from one to the other. "Seriously, what did I miss?"

"Jughead was fighting with Archie this morning. Very publicly and very violently, from what I hear," Veronica watched Jughead as she spoke. This wasn't adding up, and Archie hadn't yet responded to the texts she'd sent him after hearing the story from Betty.

Kevin looked at Jughead now, and his eyebrows went up when Jughead didn't offer a rebuttal or explanation of any kind. "Maybe don't mention the workout idea if that's not going to be good coming from you right now."

"You got it, Keller," Jughead focused on his sandwich and tried to block out his awareness of the three pairs of eyes on him. Lunch period wasn't really that long, and if he just got through the rest of the school day he could go take Trig - nope, wait, he might not be allowed to go out again this afternoon. Jughead heard his pulse in his ears as his blood pressure rose.

Jughead dropped his sandwich abruptly. He stood up and scanned the room.

"What are you doing, Jughead?" Betty's worried expression almost stopped him.

"I've got to talk to someone." Jughead had located Alice. He took a deep breath and abandoned his friends at the table.

"Ohhh, no he didn't," Kevin couldn't suppress his excitement. This was the confrontation everyone had been waiting for but assumed would never actually happen, and the one that the adults had been most invested in working to avoid - a trick to manage without infringing on either teen's right to an education.

"Oh, no, apparently he is," Veronica was shocked as well, and they all watched Jughead's progress across the crowded lunchroom.

**00000**

Alice was sitting alone at lunch. As usual.

She was so tired of these sorts of symptoms of her mother's pressure on her to toe the party line. Alice was more than willing to defend her father against false accusations, but Bryn Carter increasingly demanded the kind of investment from her daughter that was only sustainable if she wasn't in school full-time - or maybe if she didn't care about her grades and getting into a good college.

Losing any possibility of meaningful friendships in Riverdale had been one of the smaller sacrifices demanded of her.

Alice had come to realize that her frequent complaints had been in error: she had not previously known what a 'messy divorce' was. Everything had been far simpler before her mother had decided that her father was being ill-used by the legal system and begun making moves to reconcile with him, regardless of the fact that it was now impossible for that to look normal in any way. Alice might - did - hope for her father's release and the dropping of charges against him, but she was less sure with each passing day that she ever wanted him as a live-in parent again.

And she definitely didn't like how much work it was to keep her mother satisfied with her efforts to help put a 'face' on her father's case. Apparently Alice was the photogenic sort-of-witness who could soften the judge and jury as well as public opinion.

Alice much preferred her own vision for herself: as a truth-telling herald of reality, like a journalistic valkyrie, and not just a silent physical embodiment, usually in cloying pastel sweaters, of the softer, family-man side of her dad.

And the newest marching orders from this morning were just offensive. Apparently Alice was to make a point of acting scared if Jughead was anywhere near her. They didn't have any classes in common, but she was encouraged to find ways to be seen with him - and if she could goad him into actually doing anything that could be construed as threatening, so much the better.

'So, mom, would you be satisfied if I somehow got him to really hurt me? Let's see… would you prefer a bloody nose or broken arm? Which do you think would look more dramatic on the front page?' Alice's dark sense of humor almost failed her as she imagined that sarcastic conversation.

The fact that she did honestly view him as vaguely dangerous didn't translate into cowering. This was nothing more than entrapment and playacting for optics. The very worst of tabloid journalism and sleazy lawyering.

Alice had been startled to find herself walking right past Jughead this morning in front of the school, particularly since she'd been making a point to only enter the building at the last moment to avoid spending any more time there than was absolutely necessary.

Jughead's expression when he'd - inexplicably - greeted her had been classic Jonas. He'd been unsure of himself and seemed honestly, vulnerably, to be looking for his friend from Toronto.

But Alice had been there before with him. She knew better than to trust his act.

Then again, he'd mentioned thinking of her.

Alice wanted to hate herself for softening, and she knew full well that this was her imagination kicking in like it always did - but her mother had said that Jughead had been freaking out in the back seat of a police cruiser. And then he'd said he thought of her.

Maybe she hadn't been edited out of all of the stories. At least not the versions stored in Jonas' memories.

**00000**

Jughead strode over to where Alice was sitting alone. He'd left his lunch behind, and now he wished he'd brought it. He was really hungry, and if they did manage a conversation then it might be helpful to have something to do with his hands.

Because he was suddenly nervous.

Alice didn't look up, and Jughead felt his friends' eyes - maybe more people's eyes as well, but that was probably just because of his dramatic black eye - tracking him across the room. So, without preamble, Jughead simply slid into a seat across from her to make himself marginally less visible to everyone in the lunchroom.

"Jonas?" Alice looked up then, her jaw dropping.

"Uh, hi," Jughead didn't correct her about his name. With her he kind of was Jonas, and it was actually still his legal name. Once the paperwork had gotten screwed up on one form by FP, fixing it was apparently like applying for citizenship from scratch. Or so FP complained whenever yet another attempt to fix things was rejected for some arcane reason. Jughead had not been taken up on his offer to just do the paperwork himself, and Mrs. Andrews assured him that it would eventually be straightened out.

Only once the silence had become awkward did Jughead come up with something more to say, and even then it was not brilliant: "How have you been?"

Alice's eyes were huge. It occurred to her that she was following her mother's insane advice pretty well in this moment. "Are you supposed to be talking to me?"

"I'm pretty sure no," Jughead actually felt a smile flicker across his face then. This day was kicking the stuffing out of him, but Alice had represented an oasis and the only meaningful site of his rebellion against the strictures of his life with Brand. Apparently she was not just a symbolic safe place in the middle of the disintegrating world around him in Toronto, but also a source of relief here in Riverdale. "But I don't know why."

"Uh," Alice knew it would be approximately nanoseconds before his friends filled him in after this very public conversation had taken place. "Quite possibly the major court case? You might remember my father? And I'm guessing you're not keeping up with… your own press. True crime and all that?"

"That was your dad, not you," Jughead willed himself not to let thoughts of Daniel Carter into his mind. "You couldn't have known. You helped me," Jughead vividly remembered making it safely to the sidewalk when he'd nearly been abducted by the home invaders - and grabbing Alice in a hug of thanks for rescuing him. He gratefully focused on that memory instead of any thought of her father.

"And when it comes to the press, I'm... sort of a hybrid," Jughead marveled at how easily conversation was suddenly coming to him after it had been so difficult for so long. Alice had been there for some of the really bad moments; she'd saved his life. Maybe she would understand what nobody else could.

She also didn't expect him to be anyone other than Jonas. He could handle being Jonas.

"I'm half secret agent, and half - apparently - world's worst kidnapping victim," Jughead's eyes crinkled with amusement and this time his smile lasted longer. "So I 'halfway' don't do media. I don't read or watch anything about myself or anyone I know."

"You're like a manticore. Or a liger," Alice was discovering all over again his quirky charm. Darn him and his honest-seeming face. Well, it was all about to go away, so she might as well rip off the band-aid. "I… did an interview. I told the press you lied. It didn't get picked up by anyone but _The Register_, but I'm pretty much a pariah now."

Jughead bit his lip. "I'm sorry."

Alice blinked. "What?"

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Jughead paused and then cocked his head to one side, visibly weighing the possibilities for how to proceed. "Do I get one pass? I was on a secret mission, secret even to me in some ways. How does James Bond get forgiven for this kind of thing?"

"James Bond?" Alice laughed now, but it was mostly out of shock that Jughead didn't immediately want to know more about the interview - and wasn't automatically angry that she'd smeared him to the press in the middle of a court case that might eventually depend in part on his credibility. "I hope you recall that literally every time we saw each other in Toronto I saved your scrawny butt. Or pretty close to every time, anyway."

"Not scrawny," Jughead leaned forward and grinned. "Lean and hungry. That's Shakespeare."

"Oh my God, you are so pretentious," Alice put a hand over her eyes, shaking her head but still laughing. "I totally believed you were eighteen. That's how pretentious you are."

"Eh, you love me for it," Jughead suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd spoken the words, but he'd heard Brand's voice in his head.

Maybe he wasn't playing Jonas after all. Or maybe he was, and Jonas was more like Brand than he'd realized. Jughead felt slightly dizzy.

"You okay?" Alice noticed Jughead's breath catch. She hated that she still cared, but her stomach clenched as she recalled their days in the park. "Panic attack?"

"I cannot have another one today or my dad's going to have a coronary," Jughead inhaled slowly through his nose.

"FP," Alice said the name she hadn't quite recalled from meeting him in person, but had since learned from news stories. The violent gang member who had manhandled her father and who might be responsible for the huge bruise that had spread across the right side of Jonas' face. She felt a powerful resurgence of the protective instincts she'd worked so hard to lose.

"Yeah," Jughead nodded and took another slow breath. "He met you."

"He's hot." Alice grinned mischievously when Jonas' expression turned to pure horror. His breathing eased, too, since he was so potently distracted. She relaxed slightly in response. "He's single, right? Just got out of prison?"

"My ears are bleeding, Alice," Jughead buried his face in his hands. "You have to be nice to me. Mary Andrews said so. To, like, everyone in the entire school."

Alice laughed again. "The assembly about that was insane. You should have been there, only I'm pretty sure you would have actually died. Have you ever heard an exhaustive list of microaggressions against kidnapping survivors that's been brainstormed by highschoolers?"

Jughead gaped. "Why does my dad always think I can't handle the best things about having been kidnapped? I need that list. Yesterday."

"Got a phone number? E-mail address?"

"Fully stocked wallet, too," Jughead smirked.

Alice was enjoying the banter immensely, but it certainly didn't make matters any less confusing.

Oh well - she figured this would go one of two ways. Either Jonas was back and they'd suss things out, or she'd have this chance to gather information and consider doing what her mother had been pushing for ever since Jughead had returned from debriefing and the media had gone nuts: write a tell-all article for _The Blue and Gold_ that would be circulated instantaneously to the contacts of _The Register _\- and thus picked up far and wide, spiking the impending trial of Daniel Carter all while getting past the goalie Mary Andrews had become.

This was a no-lose situation for Alice.

And Jughead was still smiling at her like they hadn't missed a beat since their meet-cute in Toronto.

**00000**

"How exactly does he know her?" Kevin's expression was deeply concerned as he watched Jughead's transformation: he was talking and laughing with Alice like nothing had ever gone wrong in his young life.

"I have no idea what he _thinks_ of her, Kev," Betty was frowning. "But if they're still friends, then I'm one hundred percent sure that he doesn't actually _know_ her at all."

**00000**

Jughead was hungry after lunch period, but fully distracted from that feeling as he texted the many people who needed to be checked in with, notified, and asked about staying late after school. He was hoping to check in on _The Blue and Gold_ and catch up more with Alice.

Then he started receiving responses.

Jughead was frowning at his phone outside his History classroom when Archie accosted him.

"Are you _insane_, Jughead? What are you trying to do?" Archie had calmed down over the course of the school day, but getting Jughead's inquiring text had stirred everything up all over again. According to Betty, Jughead had been very 'chatty' with Alice at lunch. He'd appeared to become pretty much the same old pre-Brandon Jughead - maybe even _more_ talkative and lively if Betty was to be believed - completely out of nowhere.

'Chatty' might have been nice when FP and both of Archie's parents had been practically begging Jughead for information for weeks and fighting constantly against his stubborn silence - enduring his agonized screams every night - and walking on eggshells because he freaked out about bizarre traumas they had no clue about and therefore no way of anticipating.

"Uh, I have a friend and maybe an extracurricular activity for my transcript. It's fine if we have to go straight home. I was only asking," Jughead held up his phone. "Did she join a terrorist organization while I was in debrief?"

Archie shook his head in frustration; it was finally clicking for him that Jughead truly had no clue about Alice Carter, but the bell was ringing and he started to move along to his own class. "This is not cool, man. Seriously. Text my mom - and listen to her, okay? Trust me."

Jughead nodded, agreeing to check in with Mrs. Andrews. Archie gave him one more exasperated shake of his head and then left. Jughead turned off his phone and went into class.

He ducked his head when Ms. Cardell glowered. He wasn't even late for class, but he could see that he had not been forgotten.

**00000**

"FP, I'd love more information too," Mary Andrews had gone over to Andrews Construction to hold a brief meeting with Fred and FP before they picked up the boys with Officer Thomas. They had all been disturbed when Jughead casually asked about staying after school to work on _The Blue and Gold_ with Alice Carter.

"Archie's been texting me pretty much nonstop," Mary smiled briefly over her son's characteristic energy, "and I've texted Jughead some advice as well, so that will have to hold us until the end of the school day. I think the media ban may need to be lifted, though, at least for the interview with Alice. Potentially some of the coverage of her support of her father's case as well, though we might want to be careful about that."

Mary took a deep, steadying breath as she recalled some of the details. "The statements that were released about Jughead and Daniel Carter were among the worst, so we might want to talk to Jughead's counselor before we go there."

FP's fists were clenched so hard that it looked like his knuckles might split through his skin.

Fred frowned, likewise displeased; this had the potential to open the floodgates for Jughead and he could go straight back to not speaking if he became overwhelmed by consuming the media coverage of his case - and that was even leaving aside the several brutal character assassinations of him that had been published by high-profile news outlets.

FP was in favor of lifting the media ban. "Jughead needs to know what he's up against. He's in a school full of kids who have read everything they can get their hands on, and he doesn't know who's said what."

"That's… part of the purpose of the media ban," Mary said gently. "Jughead won't have an easy way of processing any quotes he reads from his classmates, and let's keep in mind that they may not even be reported accurately. Alice is only an exception because she's so active in the defense of her father. That article was a slam piece, and we can't rule out the possibility that the defense may try to take advantage of any interactions between her and Jughead. I think at this point he needs to at least read that article. We may even need to revisit whether they can attend the same school."

"I thought he knew that Alice had-," Fred stopped his own musings. "Obviously not, huh?"

"His head's still in Toronto," FP said darkly. "She was in Toronto. I want to know what she knows, and not just that hatchet job about his supposed lies. Jughead talked to her, _really_ talked-" Archie had waxed eloquent about that "-which means for some reason he trusts her. She's Carter's daughter; it makes no sense. And don't forget - Carter didn't realize that they knew each other. Alice thought I was Brandon, so she'd never met him either. And yet she thought she'd seen something criminal, and was awfully convinced that _someone_ had been beating Jughead." FP vividly recalled the surge of fear and rage that had come when Alice had made it clear that someone had hurt his son. Perhaps repeatedly. "There is more to this story."

Fred knew he shouldn't be surprised that FP had put all of that together. Instead, he should be surprised that he had not followed all of that logic himself. There had been overwhelming amounts of information to take in quickly, though, and then it had suddenly dried up when almost everything was classified.

Sometimes it seemed like they'd be playing catch-up forever.

"So they're _not_ staying after school," Mary reiterated. "I have to work, but you'll both sit down with Jughead and the article tonight, and hopefully he'll at least be willing to talk about Alice."

**00000**

"Can you send me a full copy of the report?" Brand was finding that he really liked professional courtesies. He knew not to abuse the privilege and have red flags attached to his work that Rose would have to take the time to remove or smooth, but this was an important exception: he wanted to read the report on the conspiracy theorist who had made one too many threats against Jones and triggered an official response.

Apparently Russell had even gotten in on the action, no doubt trying to keep his name attached to the high-profile case as much as possible. He was really working overtime to screw things up.

But the report was going to be copied and sent over, and it was hard to get worked up about much of anything with that on the docket. Brand thought it might be a nice night for some scotch to accompany the pleasure reading. He'd personally recommended the operative who'd been called in on that hit, and he knew that even the official report was likely to indicate the elegance of his work.

Brand had been disappointed to learn that the operative would not be visiting the Krav instructor as well. This sort of thing had never been a problem when he was the man on the ground, so there were certainly some unpleasant adjustments now that he was firmly 'on the level' in work and life.

Rose tended to insist on just a few things here and there, though. They might be small - but he was entirely inflexible about them. Brand looked over with a frown at the stacks of boxes that were still waiting on clearance regarding 'timing' from Rose before they would be sent to Jones.

Brand got the sense that Rose was enforcing this delay in order to see whether he'd toe the line. And whether Jones would sink or swim without any contact or support after what had happened in debrief. Some kind of life preserver would be the humane way of shoring the kid up and making sure he remained valuable, but Rose had his ideas. So far Brand had not been able to persuade him that Jones was kicking butt under the circumstances and deserved to be thrown a bone. Rose honestly seemed to think that Jones was something other than a sixteen-year-old who'd been asked to do more than many experienced professionals could have handled. Or perhaps Rose was thinking that if Jones really was anything less than exceptional in all ways... it might be time to cut bait.

Brand didn't like to think about what that would likely involve.

The perks of his work were very nice, though. For today he'd focus on those. There were apparently even a few fresh snapshots of Jones in the file, which were a rare commodity. Brand wanted to see if the kid had gotten any taller. He had a few more inches in him, Brand was pretty sure, but the media blackout around Jones was impressively thorough and irritatingly extended to any and all photos. Brand looked forward to gleaning what updates he could about his godson.

**00000**

Jughead had known it was likely that he would not get to walk Trig, but he was dismayed to learn that his entire evening was about to be co-opted for a discussion of Alice. He was told all of this while riding home in the truck with Fred and Archie (who had force-marched Jughead out of the school after classes ended), despite FP's previous suggestion that Jughead apologize to Officer Thomas this afternoon. Plans had changed.

Apparently things were a lot more complicated than Alice had let on. Or maybe she had said it, but Jughead had assumed she was just feeling some measure of irrational guilt due to her father.

Alice hadn't simply told the press that Jughead had lied in Toronto: she'd been featured in a full-length interview in which she claimed that he was lying about both Daniel and Jameson. She was actively advocating that all charges be dropped over Daniel commissioning his kidnapping and then assaulting him, and that Jughead's testimony be thrown out regarding Jameson as well - likely because that also implicated Daniel, since the kidnapping had been carried out for the express purpose of Jameson torturing Jughead in order to gain leverage against Brand.

Alice might have something in common with her father after all: she wanted Jughead gagged.

It was all really difficult to square with the most enjoyable conversation he'd had since leaving Toronto.

Jughead knew his silence was worrying Fred, angering Archie, and probably undoing anything good that had begun with his dad that morning after his panic attack.

He just didn't know what to say.

The truck pulled up in front of the Andrews' home and Jughead was the first one into the house. He needed to find just a few moments to breathe before everyone started in on him.

His eyes fell on the mail.

Thank God for Brand.

The note was brief again: 'You are accountable for your actions.'

Jughead knew it could be a long time before he got to talk to Brand and reply to his notes, but he was definitely going to mock him for sounding like a fortune cookie. He tucked the note into his pocket and suddenly this horrible day seemed more manageable.

Brand had his back. And Jughead had handled far worse than whatever his dad and Mr. Andrews had in mind for this evening.

**00000**

**Ohhh, yeah. We got some Alice; we got some Brand; life is good. Not getting any less complicated yet, but we have more information! I hope you enjoyed, and I'll look forward to any and all reviews. Thanks again for the wonderful encouragement! I hope your week is going well. :)**

**-Button**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter was SO fun to write. :) (am I weird or what?)**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the continued support and encouragement! I so enjoy your notes and (of course) sharing my love of Kevin (yet again, with no sign of stopping!). Alice is definitely getting the shortest end of all the sticks, yes. She and Jughead getting their little oases of relief by bantering has been a really nice break for me too! And FP's coming into his own. He's got some learning ahead of him (part of his charm?), but I adore his character later in the show, so his A/U road will hopefully get him there. :) This story is starting to do some stuff I didn't expect, and Brand's arc is pushing some of that. My writing must have been sliiiiightly unclear (I really packed a TON of blink-and-you-miss-it detail into Brand's short scene last chapter; he's got a lot of info so it's been helpful that he was MIA for five chapters), but things will become clearer/muddier in this chapter. Which I know you love/hate. ;)**

**Releqah, thank you so much! The reviews do help and motivate me. Part of that is due to a shameful truth (brace yourself): I actually feel embarrassed about writing so quickly this summer. It is weird, it is unprecedented, and it actually really feels wrong (like it's got to be self-indulgent crap instead of just unhealthy levels of escapism - the latter being something I can of course live with ;). When people actually say they're reading, let alone enjoying, my reaction is "Okay; here we go!" :-D I think I'm equally grateful that you like the editing _and_ that you think the plot is unraveling in a well-planned manner. My insecurity is officially assuaged enough to post a chapter now. ;) Stay spoilt!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

FP insisted that Archie be barred from their conversation about Alice, but Officer Thomas was still on shift and took a seat in the kitchen when the men took over the living room.

Jughead was sitting on a kitchen chair that they'd positioned in front of the couch, and so far he'd skimmed the slam article in which Alice made her pitch for throwing out all of Jughead's testimony about Daniel Carter and Jameson.

FP and Fred were sitting on the couch, united in their ready posture as they waited for a response.

"It's her dad," Jughead finally said. "I… kind of get it. Sort of."

"Don't defend her," FP's voice was quiet and his tone was tired. This day really needed to end, but he felt perilously like it couldn't until they had something resolved. Even just one thing being over and done with would be enough.

"To be fair, I did lie about a lot of things," Jughead tried again. "My name, my age-," his falsified passport was something they knew all about, so this was safe territory.

FP's eyes narrowed. He'd clearly realized that too. "How did you meet Alice?"

"Uh, she was in the bookstore. The one where you-," Jughead gestured to Fred "-went with the wanted posters." Jughead did not approve of the photo they'd selected for the missing person flyers.

"Did you approach her? Did she come up to you first?"

Fred let FP ask the questions, but he was very interested in any answers as well.

"I-," Jughead had to wrack his brain not only for clear memories, but also for any possibility that his words might lead to trouble down the road. He was getting a bad headache now and wondered when they'd have dinner. He never had eaten his lunch. "She was near a book I wanted. She said hi and we talked."

"About what?" FP was calm, but fired his questions quickly.

"The book I wanted." Jughead gave him a 'duh' look.

"What book?"

Jughead stopped then. It had been a new book; they would be able to start a timeline with that information.

"What book, Jughead?" FP spoke more slowly, sarcastically enunciating.

"I don't remember." Jughead had found that a useful answer in debrief.

"You remember every book you've ever read. Maybe ever seen."

Unfortunately FP knew him better than the FBI had. Jughead sneaked a glance toward the kitchen. Officer Thomas was texting while she ate a granola bar. That looked good right about now.

"What book?" FP repeated.

"Can I have a snack?"

"When you've told us what the book was."

Ah, negotiations. Jughead knew what to do with this.

"I want water, too," Jughead glanced toward the kitchen again. Gina Thomas was still texting, but apparently had peanuts as well as the granola bar.

"We'll need more than a book title, then." FP leaned forward.

Fred was starting to feel very uncomfortable; in their exceedingly brief strategy session they certainly hadn't discussed leveraging access to food and water.

Jughead gave them the book title. FP got up agreeably and tossed him an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen.

"Good boy. How many times did you see Alice in Toronto?"

That one sounded even more dangerous. Jughead looked away as he took a bite of the apple.

"We can take a break. Pick this up after you've had a little time to eat your apple and think things through," FP stretched. It really had been a long day. "You look like you could use a time-out."

Jughead's head snapped up at that turn of phrase.

Fred saw the warning signs before FP did. Something had triggered.

Jughead's breathing picked up speed and his eyes searched the room as if he was reassuring himself that he was where he thought he was - and not somehow somewhere else, having a different conversation.

"What are you- You cannot do this every time you don't like something we say or do," FP looked to Fred for backup.

Fred shook his head to indicate that he was thinking better of this approach. "We should stop. I don't think he's faking, and you're starting to scare _me_."

FP sighed. He wasn't ready to give up quite yet and tried a gambit that might well get Fred back on his side. "Did Brandon know about you meeting Alice? Was he around for any of this?"

Jughead knew that the truth would raise far too many questions. "Yes."

"Wrong answer, boy."

This time Jughead didn't look away. He was wide-eyed with shock as he searched FP's eyes for information. This could be bad. This _was_ bad. They knew something they shouldn't, and Jughead needed to get things back on message. Any information that didn't fit neatly into the official legend could lead to Rose way too quickly.

"You want to know how I know that, huh?" FP gave him a grim smile. "Well, Jughead, there are a lot of things that I want to know, too."

Jughead needed to buy some time. Figure this out, and gather some information. He was suddenly inspired by FP's accusation that he was faking a panic attack. Straightening up in his chair, Jughead tried to recall everything Brand had taught him about working through a panic attack - and he stopped doing those things.

For a moment the panic attack receded simply because Jughead now welcomed it. Counterintuitively, he wasn't panicking anymore.

Then he felt lightheaded.

"Are you-,"

Everything went gray and Jughead had just enough time to regret his tactic when he saw the expression on his dad's face. But he felt himself losing consciousness and he couldn't pull out of it - and then that really _did_ make him panic.

**00000**

Sheriff Keller had Kevin in the car with him, but just one look at the texts from Officer Thomas changed their plans for the afternoon. "Hey, do you want to drop in on Archie and Jughead?"

"Nope," Kevin didn't like it when his dad pretended he had a choice about whether he'd be dragged on an emergency call that came at an inconvenient time.

Tom gave Kevin a look.

"Bu-ut I didn't get to catch up with Archie today and I did want to ask him about working out together," Kevin gave his father a fake smile. "What a happy coincidence that they're having a domestic dispute right when I wanted to talk with him!"

"It's not a-," Keller realized he actually wasn't sure. "Don't be smart. They're going through a rough time."

Another text came in, this time from a different source with very surprising information - but it was also relevant to the situation at the Andrews' house.

"Huh. We'd better get over there."

"Cage fighting in the cruiser again?" Kevin deadpanned.

"How do you even know about that?" Tom shook his head at Kevin. "Mary Andrews is working overtime on controlling the media, but the gossip seems to get everywhere all the same."

"I ate lunch with Jughead," Kevin explained. "Which was really weird, actually."

Sheriff Keller didn't always get useful intelligence from his son's school stories, but as they drove over to the Andrews' home he realized that he was quite likely getting the back story on Gina Thomas' concerned texts. He tried not to let on how interested he was, though, since this was starting to sound like one time when Kevin would need to wait in the car.

**00000**

Fred was shaky and repentant as he helped a distraught FP lift Jughead's limp body onto the couch. In hindsight they had lost perspective - it had just been such a long day - and suddenly the list of directives they'd been given for interacting with Jughead echoed in his mind and condemned much of what they'd done since getting home with the boys from school.

There was a knock on the front door.

Gina Thomas hadn't done much of anything until now, but she got up to answer the door.

A moment later it was obvious why: Sheriff Keller walked in.

"Back to the car, Kevin," Once he saw the living room Keller didn't hesitate or even look back to where Kevin was waiting on the front steps. Kevin sighed longsufferingly and returned to the car to do his homework while he waited.

"I'm going to need some very good reasons not to call an ambulance and then a social worker," Sheriff Keller folded his arms. "Is that going to be a problem, gentlemen?"

The room looked like a staging area for a hostage video.

"He had a panic attack," FP was sitting on the edge of the couch by his son and his hands were visibly shaking. "I think he made himself pass out, or let himself pass out, because I was pushing him. Asking questions." Fred cleared his throat meaningfully. "Hard. I pushed him hard. Because of what happened this morning and then with Alice Carter and-,"

"I know about most of this," Keller figured he'd gotten the gist of the situation with the benefit of Kevin's backstory from lunch. His heart ached for the terrified father, so he decided to cut to the chase: "Gina let me know what was going on, and she was here the whole time. So I think that maybe, just this once, we can call this a replacement for a social worker visiting. If I'm satisfied that you won't try this twice-" Keller raised a hand reassuringly since both men looked panicked "-then I won't tell Mary you did this, and I doubt she'll see the paperwork when I write it up."

The men were relieved. If he was joking, even slightly, they probably weren't about to be arrested - or lose custody.

"Let's start with what possessed you to interrogate a teenager who's been tortured."

That was when the men realized that Keller might have cracked a joke, but he wasn't about to let them off easy.

**00000**

Jughead came to on the couch. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, and his pounding head was yet another reason he'd never be pulling this move again. He wondered if that was from hunger, hyperventilating, or if he'd clocked himself when he went down. He decided he didn't want to know.

He could also hear that Sheriff Keller had joined his dad's interrogation crew, so he didn't want to open his eyes just yet and let on that he was awake.

He needed more time to figure out what to say.

"So you're going to need to ask yourself what it is you absolutely need to know, and what you can live with maybe never knowing," Sheriff Keller was saying. "You are not law enforcement, and your job is not to investigate. Your job is to enjoy having Jughead back and help him figure out how to enjoy being back home. If something is working, do more of that. If something isn't working, try not doing that for a while. You won't always get to know the reasons why."

Jughead listened with interest. This sounded promising.

"And you," Keller's tone suddenly became firmer than the almost-conciliatory one he'd taken after he'd finished putting the fear of God into FP and Fred. "Are you going to do this again?"

That was when Jughead realized they knew he was back with them. He opened one eye, squinting against his headache.

"Yes, sir. I mean-" holy crap, everyone suddenly looked _really angry_ over his mistake in wording, "_no_, sir. I won't. I'm sorry. That was-"

Jughead's mind supplied a lot of words. Important. Necessary. For everyone's protection. Exactly what he might have done all over again had he awoken to more questioning.

Well, okay, probably not that last one. Not with them looking at him like this. And his headache killing him.

Everyone waited for him to finish his sentence. Sometimes Jughead really hated 'autonomous decision-making.' There seemed to be infinite ways for it to get him into trouble.

"-a regrettable lapse in judgment," he finally finished.

"Bingo," Keller nodded seriously.

"As in buzzword?" FP was swiftly realizing that he wasn't the only one who had picked up a few useful phrases in counseling. "You'd better mean that, boy, or-,"

"Do me a favor and let's not add any credible threats to the list right now," Keller gave FP a quelling look to remind him that there was no moral high ground to be had in this room. "Though, as a matter of fact, I do have news about that."

FP put a hand over his eyes and tried not to sigh too loudly. This day really was never going to end, was it?

"He's dead." Sheriff Keller watched everyone's reactions. This coincidence was more than a little strange, and while Fred and FP might not be law enforcement who needed to dig for answers, he did not have that same luxury.

FP was looking up with interest now. He had already said that he wished the man dead and it didn't occur to him to feel anything other than pleased. He might even say 'grateful.'

"He just... keeled over?" Jughead looked relieved, but also vaguely queasy, like he felt guilty about that relief. The man had been a total stranger who had fixated on his story in the news; Jughead had admittedly been a little worried, knowing he'd been deemed credible in his threats, but didn't wish him dead either.

"Not exactly." Keller related only in the broadest of strokes the reasons why it was likely a suicide - but suspicious enough in its timing to warrant further investigation. Just in case.

Fred looked like he might be sick.

And then Jughead _was_ sick. All over the floor.

"Of course. Why not this too?" FP wanted to laugh now. This was a sign, right? He never should have gotten out of bed this morning.

"Was that Jughead?" Archie's voice came from the staircase.

Fred gestured toward the heavens upon realizing that Archie had likely overheard everything. He went to retrieve the barf bucket.

FP was selfishly glad that he at least wasn't the only one fully suffering this terrible day - Fred was right there with him.

"Sorry, man," Archie continued calling down the stairs. "Seventy-two hours. We still have some of the good crackers, though, don't worry."

Then the first good thing of the day happened: Fred made it back with the bucket before Jughead was overtaken by round two.

**00000**

FP sat in the kitchen with Sheriff Keller and Fred. Jughead had been tucked into bed with the bucket close to hand and his homework nearby in case he had enough energy to focus on it at any point.

Fred was heating up soup and regretting that they hadn't given Jughead more food when he'd asked for it.

FP knew that Keller had to leave - Kevin was still in the car and they'd taken up nearly an hour already - but he desperately needed something to focus on, to do, that he could feel sure of in this whole situation.

"Tom, he just needs so much," FP wasn't sure this was coming out right. "Around-the-clock supervision. Was he Brandon's full-time job? Was he tied up whenever he wasn't actively being watched? I know-" FP waved off what he was certain Keller was about to say, "I might never know. I just need to know what I can do now. I can't be there every minute of every day until he finds his feet again. That could take months." Maybe years, though nobody wanted to say that.

"Well…" Sheriff Keller knew he should tread carefully, in case this was not possible. FP was not a man of means. "I don't know if you can afford it, but from what I'm seeing Jughead is in crisis right now. A lot has happened all at once, and maybe a few days off from work would be a wise investment."

"I started my job yesterday," FP stared at Keller in disbelief.

"I understand your employer is very generous," Tom smiled over at Fred, who was assembling a tray with a bowl and crackers and ginger ale. "You might be able to work out some time off, maybe an advance on a paycheck. There have been offers of financial support from the community, too, so you might consider taking folks up on that. Just during this rough patch."

"Do it, FP," Fred said encouragingly. "Take at least the rest of this week. He's sick, but maybe that will slow you both down and end up being a helpful thing right now. The break from school certainly seems well-timed."

"I don't need financial support. Or an advance," FP sighed, but was relieved. This sounded like something he could do. With some help, anyway. "And I'll take the time off. Thanks. You really think it's just a rough patch? Things won't stay this way?"

Keller didn't think FP needed to hear the litany repeated of all that had happened over the last forty-eight hours in order to emphasize that it was highly unlikely that anything would stay this way. He just nodded. "I don't see how things could keep on at this fever pitch. This was a whole lot of firsts that you won't ever have to face again in quite the same way. They just happened to all come at once."

"Yeah," FP nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath. "If this isn't forever, then we can just take some time. Get through this part and on to the next."

Sheriff Keller had to leave soon after that and Officer Thomas prepared to leave as well, now that the threat was gone.

FP nodded to her, acknowledging soberly that she'd probably been the only thing standing between them and a whole lot more trouble that afternoon. She nodded back with a sympathetic smile that suggested she understood a lot more than she tended to let on - and then she returned to typing on her phone as she walked out the front door.

Fred finished making Jughead dinner and gestured to the tray. "You take it up, FP. Just tell him you'll be around for a few days and then sit with him. I'll spend the evening with Archie down here. It will be good for all of us."

FP accepted the offer gratefully, and with hope that there was an expiration date on this level of excitement - and that it was coming soon.

**00000**

Archie wasn't sure how to feel about some parts of 'the day from hell,' as the men privately referred to that Tuesday from then on.

It ended well enough. Archie enjoyed a long movie with his dad that they'd both been wanting to watch - but it was fairly violent, and that was a no-go with Jug these days. They made popcorn and ice cream, and they were lounging on the couch together and watching the final scenes of the movie when Mary got home.

"How did things go?" Mary asked, keeping her voice down since it was after nine pm and she assumed that FP and Jughead were in bed since they weren't watching the movie.

"Great, Mom," Archie smiled and patted the couch next to him to invite her to join them. "Jughead caught the flu from me, so that's not so good, but everything else was just fine. Everyone has a lot to think about, but I think we're going to make it. How was your meeting?"

That hadn't been what Fred was going to say. Not even close.

Archie raised his eyebrows and grinned at his dad the moment his mother turned away from him.

Fred couldn't help but smile back. So they'd close ranks on this particular incident, and it would stay between the four of them - and Sheriff Keller and Officer Thomas.

Mary got comfortable on the couch and began sharing about her day.

Later in the evening she kissed Fred goodnight. "I'm really proud of you. And FP. I wasn't sure how that might go."

Fred just shrugged modestly and left it at that.

**00000**

**Oh, that was so much fun. I hope you enjoyed as much as I did! I'll enjoy reading your thoughts (thanks in advance!), and I'll be hard at work in the meantime. :)**

**-Button**


	8. Chapter 8

**Bad week, anyone? A new chapter might help. :)**

**Thanks as always for a truly lovely review, Living Lucid Dream! The interrogation setup was pretty serious, yeah; FP's got a hammer, and... he's slowly learning new tricks. He's amazing for the story because he is so complex. In the previous two stories, when FP took a smaller role, it's probably good that I didn't know what I was missing. :) And I totally do play favorites - Kevin clearly deserves the best lines. ;) I was hoping that Keller drop-kicked it (yay!), and I am glad that Archie was cute, too. He really earned the last word in ch 7.**

**Thank you for the reviews as well, Guest! I'm so glad you are sympathetic toward Alice. The further we get, the harder things are for her. Brand as sweet is one of my favorite things to hear; he really kind of is, despite everything. I'm glad you liked FP's reversion to gang leader! That was super fun. :) Rose is definitely a wild card... I am not sure what's coming from him, but I agree with your prediction about FP's likely reaction! **

**But enough ado...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Agent Tobias Russell had been denied his request to be the one to follow up on the 'suicide' of the conspiracy theorist who had targeted Jonas Davies, or "Jughead Jones." His partner, Marcus Donn, was characteristically unperturbed and seemed to welcome the reality that this meant less work for them.

Russell really wished he had a different partner sometimes. Donn was extremely competent but not very ambitious; that held them back. It held Russell back.

He'd finally had a decent break when he'd lucked out and been front and center for one of the more newsworthy and bizarre kidnapping/espionage cases of the decade. Russell probably could have ridden that to a cushy consulting gig if it hadn't been for his being inexplicably removed from the initial debriefing lineup without explanation.

He still wondered if the kid had been behind that, or perhaps Davies. That had been back when the teams working with Jones had been bending over backwards to fuss over him and make him comfortable.

Before they'd begun to suspect that there might be another story there, and that they'd be wise to call in yet another set of specialists to make sure they weren't being taken for one major ride.

Russell didn't want to say that Donn was in any part responsible for the fact that they had never gotten the traction they could have during their higher-octane portion of the debriefing, particularly since they had actually managed to get one solid foothold before Jones stopped talking - and Donn was largely responsible for that.

Russell did, however, blame Donn for the fact that they hadn't gotten a few more days - maybe weeks - to get to the bottom of what had been a promising lead. There were strings that Donn had not pulled, and he'd opposed any attempt at bringing formal charges to buy time. That had meant Jones went home before they'd cracked his silence.

The kid had been smart, though. That had been a huge factor. He hadn't known that he could force his own release with relative impunity - an impression that Russell was proud of having given him without _technically _violating any rules too severely - but other than that he'd played for time like a pro, and he'd somehow managed to salvage what was left of his story and get out. Go home. Have his file stamped with the order that he was done, aside from regular follow-ups in Riverdale with a guardian present, and they were not to pursue interviewing Jones on site any further than they had.

Russell was not to interview him again at all.

Unless something compelling reopened everything.

This would be a huge break, and Russell _knew _it was there. If he could manage to get another crack at the kid, maybe bring him back to the facility now that Jones had gotten back into the swing of things, was attached to his life and friends and that pretty girl next door, and he'd been fully reminded of exactly what he had to lose... Russell knew he could be made to talk.

Unfortunately it looked like this altogether-too-convenient suicide would not be the circumstance that got him back on the case.

It had even seemed like the denial had been more strongly worded than it needed to be, which bothered Russell.

He had ambitions, after all.

**00000**

FP had the house listings pulled up on Jughead's laptop and was considering asking his son to just move over on his mattress so that they could both lounge there and look at the options in a way that didn't make FP feel old. His back was killing him from sitting on the wooden chair in Archie's bedroom for more than an hour now.

Archie had gone to school and Fred had gone to work, so FP had let Jughead sleep in and then brought him some toast - and raised the subject of buying a house in the neighborhood.

"Hey, let me see," Jughead took the laptop from FP. "We can afford this?"

They could. With the fund that had been set up for them.

"We'll swing it somehow," FP left it at that. "Move over and make room for your old man."

"Yeah, that chair is… something," Jughead scooted over and with effort they fit side by side on the twin mattress Fred had originally gotten for FP, who had then given it to Jughead to use in Archie's bedroom.

"How are you feeling?" The sheets were unnaturally warm where Jughead had been resting. His face was flushed too. "Your fever's still going strong." FP put the back of his hand against Jughead's forehead to confirm, and sure enough he was still burning up.

"Your hand feels good. Cool," Jughead sighed contentedly and closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the relief. His father left his hand there for a few more seconds.

FP eyed the bucket. It hadn't been in use yet today, but based on Archie's experience with the illness it was not ready for retirement just yet.

"I'm okay," Jughead saw where FP was looking. "I'll let you know, don't worry. Did you look at the bedrooms in this one?"

FP looked more closely at the house Jughead was examining. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"What was your room like in-," FP tried for a moment to decide whether this was something Sheriff Keller would approve or not - and then gave up and just asked his question. "In Toronto. What did you do with your room?"

Jughead had tensed during FP's lead-in, clearly anticipating where the question was headed. He hesitated, but then he answered. "I had a lot of books. Shelves. Wallpaper, too, that I wrote stuff on. A bunch of quotes I liked."

FP hadn't expected just a few details to change everything about his mental picture of Jughead's months in Toronto, but this was more than a little unexpected. "He gave you -" FP intuited that the conversation might go more smoothly if he edited Brandon out of their discussion and adjusted his wording. "I mean, you had a lot of books?"

"Oh, yeah." Jughead didn't quite smile, but his shoulder relaxed where it leaned against FP. "I was working through a reading list for college."

"But not anymore?" FP looked around curiously and realized there were only a few books in the room that were not school texts. "We should get you some more books."

Jughead didn't answer.

"In case they don't show up soon," FP prompted gently.

"If we get our own place, they probably will." Jughead had recalled Brand's words that he'd send things along once he had an address. It might just be that the Andrews' home didn't count. It would be a pretty big hassle to receive his full library here, so maybe that was all that had delayed Brand.

"Uh-huh," FP let it slide. They'd see, and Jughead would eventually accept it if there never was a delivery of books and clothing. And hey, maybe there would be. "What else?"

"Um," Jughead wasn't sure there was much else to say about his room. "Well, I built some of the shelves. I can make some for you too if you want." Jughead's eyes went back to the images on the laptop. "Are there photos of the basement? We had a gym."

FP ignored the 'we.' "What equipment did you have in the gym? You look like you spent a lot of time in it," FP had to lean away on the tiny mattress to make enough room to maneuver his arm around Jughead and squeeze his bicep.

"A treadmill. Some weights and stuff. Mostly just space to-," Jughead stopped cold then, his shoulders tensing again.

"I did some mixed martial arts," FP filled the gap in the conversation. "It went better when we had a lot of room."

"We?" Jughead looked up now, curious.

"Some of the Serpents really enjoy that kind of thing. You'd wipe the floor with them, though," FP smiled at the mental image - and the memory of his son taking down Keating. "I wouldn't mind seeing that, actually. We could bring you out of retirement once you're feeling better. Maybe let your face heal first too."

"You mean my back-to-school game face?" Jughead smiled and his eyebrows quirked playfully.

FP laughed briefly. "Yeah. Something like that."

"I... didn't go outside much for a long time," Jughead offered then. His voice was suddenly quieter, as if he wasn't sure whether he might later want to retract some or all of what he was saying. "So I was in the gym a lot."

"Makes sense," FP said simply. He left it at that, hoping Jughead would say more.

They were silent then, and Jughead clicked through a few more photos of the house he liked. Jughead's phone lit up, catching FP's eye, but it didn't vibrate or make a sound. It was on FP's side of the bed, so he reached to hand it to Jughead.

"It's from Betty," FP couldn't help seeing her name on the screen.

Jughead sighed and made no move to take the phone from his father. His eyes flickered longingly toward the screen, though.

"When you disappeared," FP thought hard about how to say this, "I was sure that Brandon had you somewhere. I went a little nuts," FP smiled faintly at his own understatement, "but I worked hard every single day to look for you."

Jughead wasn't clear on the specific details of his father's search efforts, but he knew some of that story already. He and Fred had gotten as far as Toronto - a fact that still made Jughead's heart want to freeze when he thought of what could have happened to them - and they'd managed to find Carter and then - almost - Jameson.

"For Betty… everything went dark. I know you missed that part, so right now you can only see that things are hard. But have you ever been in total darkness? Like a cave?" FP had never taken him to one, and he wished in this moment that he'd taken the time to do that. And so many other things. "Just the smallest amount of light changes everything. It can be a painful change, too, even though it's good." FP suddenly wasn't sure this was making any sense. "Anyway, the light's back for Betty now; I can tell just by looking at her. But it might still hurt sometimes."

"Like there was a hood over her head," Jughead's voice was quiet but intense. He was looking down and more or less toward the wall now, and his hair had fallen forward so FP couldn't see any of his face. "I get that. It takes a little while to adjust afterward. To be sure it's really over."

FP only realized that his whole body had tensed when he felt Jughead reacting uncomfortably to the change. This sounded real. It wasn't classified if Jughead was sharing it with him, but it must either be buried in the court documents for the upcoming trial, or contained in other files that the FBI had not deigned to share.

FP desperately wanted to ask more, to confirm who it was that he could blame - hurt - for treating his son like he was less than an animal. But he decided to wait. Let Jughead decide what to do or say next, and try - try _very_ hard - to let it go for now if he changed the subject.

"It was just once, dad," Jughead's voice was barely above a whisper now, and his face was still turned toward the wall - but he could feel his father's agitation radiating through his body and wanted to reassure him. "I survived."

Yes. He had. FP still had an arm around Jughead's shoulders and, reaching over to complete the embrace, he turned his head to bury his face in his son's hair. He smelled like he was sick and could use a shower, but FP inhaled deeply. He smelled alive.

Maybe, FP reflected as Jughead shifted in the suddenly tight grip that his father was not quite ready to give up, that darkness was still looming in the background for him too. Sometimes it even seemed as though Brandon had come back to Riverdale along with Jughead, and was still holding his son prisoner - only now from a distance. But that hadn't happened. His son was right here with him, safe and sound.

As he relaxed his impulsive hug and allowed Jughead to adjust back into a more comfortable position, FP resolved to do his best to remember that he'd actually gotten everything that he wanted: Jughead was home.

**00000**

When Archie got home from school he stuck his head into his bedroom to see if Jughead needed anything - or if he should steer clear and let his roommate sleep.

FP was lying on the twin mattress on the floor and reading something on Jughead's laptop; he'd ended up leaning against the wall and was angled awkwardly to make more room on the mattress for Jug, who was sound asleep. Even as Archie took in the visual, FP moved one hand to navigate the mouse on the laptop - and then returned the hand to its former position, resting on Jughead's shoulder.

Archie turned on his heel and left the room shaking his head. He was close with his dad, but definitely not recovered-missing-person levels of close.

Setting up shop in the kitchen, Archie did his homework and then started making hamburgers. His mother would be home in time for dinner, and Archie hoped that if the cooking was already in progress she would sit down with his dad. Maybe talk for a while. Archie wasn't sure what was happening between them, but he figured he could smooth the path a little if there was any possibility that they might be thinking about getting back together.

"Wow - this looks great," Fred entered the house through the kitchen door in time to see Archie dicing onion to mix with the hamburger. "Thanks for doing this, Arch."

"No problem," Archie smiled at his dad. He thought of FP and Jughead again as he continued cutting up the onion. "Hey, dad… If I had been the one who disappeared, what would you have done?"

"First off, bite your tongue," Fred knocked on the wooden door he'd just come through, though it was more for emphasis than out of superstition. "Second... I think everyone in Riverdale would like to think they'd do exactly what FP did. I know that I would now, having been through what we've been through."

"Would you maybe…" Archie trailed off, not entirely sure what he wanted to ask. "Never mind."

"What are Jughead and FP up to?" Fred divined that this line of inquiry had likely been inspired by something Archie had observed but wasn't able to articulate.

"Jug's asleep, and FP's lying on the mattress with him, reading something." Archie tilted his head as if trying to physically see this from another angle that made better sense. "It looks really uncomfortable."

Fred snorted. "I bet." He thought this through for a few moments. "I'm not sure, but it would probably be different for us. FP's missed a lot more than just the past seven months with Jughead. You and I would have time to make up, but those two are trying to make up an awful lot of ground that they probably never noticed they were missing until now."

"Jughead noticed."

That was probably true.

"Can I invite Veronica over on Friday after school?"

How quickly the topics changed around here.

"I don't see why not," The more Fred thought about it the more he found that he really liked the idea. Archie had been dating Veronica for a few months now, and they tended to spend time together outside of the Andrews' home. It had made a lot of sense under the circumstances, but Fred thought Archie's instinct was right: things were changing now, and - knock on wood again - they might soon be able to relax and start opening the house up a little bit more. "Do you think she'd like to come for dinner?"

"I'll ask her," Archie grinned as he had an idea. "Maybe Betty can come too. We could cook again." Archie's grin faded then. "Do you think Jughead would be okay with that? Since we did it with Brandon before?"

"Why don't you ask him that?" Fred hadn't been present for that dinner, but from what he recalled it had gone okay. That didn't mean much, though - they'd missed a lot last fall. "I think that inviting the girls is a fine idea either way."

"Cool," Archie began mixing the onion with the hamburger. "Hopefully Jughead will be feeling better by then."

**00000**

Fred sat down with FP and Mary after dinner. Archie had brought soup upstairs for Jughead and planned to go over the homework assignments that he'd collected for his friend.

"It sounds like things went well today." Fred's statement was more a question than anything.

"This…" FP ran a hand through his hair, slightly agitated. "_This_ is what it should have been from the beginning. If I could do it over-,"

"You just spent the day sharing a twin mattress. I for one think you're doing just fine," Mary's tone was reassuring, and she couldn't help but smile over the mental image. "It's also quite possible that Jughead wouldn't have been ready for this level of interaction right away. Try to look at it this way: you've figured one thing out. That's one more thing than you had yesterday."

"A few things, actually," FP related some of what he'd discussed with Jughead.

"So it's possible he'll be willing to share even more over time," Fred was impressed. "I know that house, too. The owners kept it up really well, and I think they're moving to retire. Want to walk through it together this week?"

"Once Jughead's up to it," FP nodded. "He's interested in helping pick out our place, and I don't want to shut down anything he's enthusiastic about." FP's expression darkened for a moment. "He thinks Brandon might send his stuff once we have our own place. You don't think that's why he's interested in moving, do you?"

Fred and Mary exchanged a glance.

"I really couldn't say," Fred answered cautiously. "But I think the other things you talked about make that unlikely."

"I hope so."

"Just keep on being there, FP," Mary found FP's insecurity surrounding Jughead's attachment to Brandon heartbreaking - and she worried about its long-term effects for both him and his son. "Jughead's smart. He'll see who's showing up for him day after day."

**00000**

Betty marched toward _The Blue and Gold_ with purpose. There had been some E-mails and chatter about 'transitioning' the school newspaper over to Alice, but nothing had happened at this point and Betty had decided that the best defense was a great issue of the paper itself.

She particularly liked the elegance of simply doing what she loved and letting that speak for itself. Betty had learned that simply working harder could not always resolve a conflict, but she tried not to lose sight of the fact that, exceptions notwithstanding, it usually was a winning strategy.

It was hard to deny a job well done.

Betty sneaked a quick glance at her phone, where she'd saved a photo that Archie had sent her late the night before. The shot had been taken from Archie's bed, and was of FP and Jughead watching a movie. They were crowded onto a tiny mattress on the floor, which raised questions about whether anyone had bothered getting Jughead a real bed.

Betty hated that she only had more questions every time she learned new details about arrangements at the Andrews' house.

Nevertheless, aside from that concerning element, the photo made Betty feel like she could put more of her focus into the student newspaper today. She certainly didn't need to devote quite so much of her brain power to worrying about Jughead if this picture was an accurate representation of how things were going at the moment.

There was all kinds of motion in the photo as Jughead seemed to be grabbing at FP, whose hands were a blur as he blocked Jughead. It was obvious that this wasn't a serious conflict, though: Jughead was throwing his head back with laughter while FP was… singing. And it looked loud, even just in a photo.

Archie's text hadn't fully explained it: 'Jug's not allowed to watch scary movies so FP's seeing if he can get his money's worth out of the barf bucket. Want some roommates?'

Betty smiled for what could have been the hundredth time at Jughead's expression in the photo. If he could do that - if FP could get him to do that - if Archie could jokingly complain even while taking photos that showed that he understood this was a big deal - then surely Betty could do what she needed to do. They were all going to be okay.

They were all going to be having dinner together, too, the very next day. Betty was looking forward to going over after school to hang out for a few hours before they cooked together. The invitation had come from Archie, but Jughead had texted her as well, briefly, to say he hoped he'd be feeling better so they could all take a walk and get outside for a bit.

All of that helped a great deal when she stepped into the room and found that Alice was not working on the newspaper alone. Ms. Cardell was there also, and looked awfully comfortable in a very nice chair positioned in front of a brand-new desk against the wall.

"Betty," Ms. Cardell smiled and it was equal parts fake and officious. "So good of you to come. I understand this club has been without an invested faculty advisor, so today is unfortunately our first fully official meeting. You're just in time to discuss the nomination for president of the club as we look to next year in particular."

Betty looked at Alice with narrowed eyes. She could imagine where this was headed.

"Jughead Jones," Ms. Cardell announced. "Or rather, Jonas Davies."

Betty hesitated, ignoring Ms. Cardell's flouting of the student body's brainstormed list of 'microaggressions against survivors of abduction.' This had to be a game of some kind, right? Were they hoping he'd be unable to attend meetings and make decisions about _The Blue and Gold_? Betty thought about it for a moment longer, and resolve filled her: whatever their plan might be, she'd help to make it work for Jughead and for the paper during the final weeks of the year - and then the next school year. They'd hoped for a great junior year working on the publication, and it might as well happen with Jughead as editor-in-chief.

"I think that sounds like… an _excellent_ idea," Betty smiled tightly at Alice and Ms. Cardell and her tone was very careful. "Thank you for anticipating that he'd like a more active role in the paper. It's so _kind_ of you to be so welcoming."

"He said that he wanted to be involved," Alice stood up. She had a couple of inches on Betty and seemed to like that. "So! That's settled, then. We'll have him coordinate over E-mail until he's well enough to come back to school."

"You know what?" Betty suddenly realized that there was another factor here. "I think maybe we'd better ask him what he thinks first. You may well be right," Betty gave Alice another tight smile, "but I really think he'd appreciate having a say in this. A chance to have _his_ perspective heard."

They stood silently for a moment, Alice's eyes slitting into a glare and Betty's eyes remaining wide and her expression overly innocent.

"Don't you think so?" Betty's smile was now edging closer to a smirk as she turned to go. "I'm sure we can catch him through E-mail, though. Or text. Or I could ask him tomorrow over dinner."

Betty felt guilty later, but the look on Alice's face was honestly worth every self-flagellating moment of Betty's walk home when she abruptly realized that she'd used Jughead as a pawn in their power struggle.

She really needed to stop doing that. Honestly, everyone needed to stop doing that.

**00000**

**This chapter was a relief to write. I'm hoping that came through, because I think (almost) everyone in the story is quite relieved as well! As always, I'll love it if you let me know how you're doing this fine week, and what you think/how you feel/whatever as the story progresses. Thanks in advance!**

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	9. Chapter 9

**I hope you're having an amazing week! The writing keeps on keeping on over here. :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, I love (love, love) your energy. Thank you again! The debriefing mystery is not going to hide forever, and I like your instincts for Russell's arc. That was a good theory about Rose's involvement, but... Russell's just obnoxious. I really enjoy how well you get FP's character, and how strongly you're rooting for him. Me too. :) He is still himself (hilariously, lovably), but I agree he's got decent instincts and the ability/will to change approaches to whatever works. I thought it was great when you zeroed in on a line I thought was more about Archie (he didn't want a revision of history), but that really does sum up Jughead's experiences very well. You made me re-see that scene in a cool way.**

**Thanks for sharing your anticipation, too... and here we are!**

**I hope you (all) enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Jughead was getting nervous. Things were so much better all of a sudden, and just kept shifting - literally overnight.

Since Sheriff Keller had lectured his dad and Fred, nobody was trying to outsmart Jughead and trip him up in his story, pretty much for the first time since he'd left Toronto. FP in particular seemed genuinely to just want to spend time together, and they were actually getting to know each other - which was no small feat on this side of everything that had happened since the fall.

Something had to come next, though, and in Jughead's experience it was never more of the same.

He really hoped that any changes would not involve a return to conflict with his dad.

Over the past two and a half days, ever since 'the day from hell,' FP had spent almost every waking hour with Jughead - and even some of Jughead's sleeping hours. It was abrupt and it was shocking, but it was also really helpful.

Jughead was recognizing gratefully that his father was not actually the near-stranger he'd seemed to be when he pulled up in a car after debriefing had ended, and during their almost silent four-hour drive to Riverdale. Instead, FP was familiar in all sorts of ways, many of which Jughead hadn't thought of for ages.

For one thing, when FP wanted something, it usually made sense: he said he wanted it, he acted like he wanted it, and when he got it (as he usually did) he appreciated it.

There was no game.

In fact, Jughead was taking an extra-long shower in part to get a breather from FP's no-nonsense approach to spending time with his son.

All this time together in close quarters could have started to feel claustrophobic, or maybe even similar to those endless days waiting for something to happen while holed up with Brand because they were in hiding from Jameson - the days when Jughead had begun to realize that they were without an exit strategy.

But it hadn't.

FP was far too loud, for one thing. He brought the whole world into the room. Jughead smiled into the stream of water just at the memory of his dad's insistence that they watch musicals for much of the evening on Wednesday. Jughead hadn't known he could laugh that way without Brand around.

Which was weird, he knew.

But for months Brand had just kept on taking care of him. That had been a new experience in a lot of ways. Brand had made sure he ate, could breathe through his panic attacks, had books, understood what he was learning from those books, and had a companion for movie-watching and a partner for their playful wrestling matches and endless banter.

Through all of that, Jughead's eyes had been trained on Brand instead of watching the door for the next disaster. Even if that had only been because Brand was the one he'd needed to watch, it had been a relief.

FP had somehow managed to make Jughead feel as relaxed as Brand had achieved over months - and he'd done it in only a few weeks.

In large part he'd done it in just a few days.

That was what made Jughead nervous: surely it could all be undone just as quickly. He hoped not, though.

And, confusingly, none of this made Jughead miss Brand any less.

FP was just so different.

Jughead felt his thoughts starting to repeat and he knew it was time to change up the train of thought in his head. Digging too hard into the similarities and differences between FP and Brand seemed quite likely to stir up the anxiety that Jughead was still learning to control.

Inhaling deeply and cranking up the hot water as it started to lose strength - his shower was going too long, he realized - Jughead focused on Trigger instead. He missed him and wished there was a way of telling the dog he was sick. He hadn't forgotten him. He'd be there as soon as he could.

That made him think of the mail.

Jughead ached for another note. He would wait, though; he wanted to keep them to himself, and right now his dad was making them lunch and wanted to look together at a new house listing that had come up. He'd said something about Archie's video game system too, and Jughead hoped he'd been serious about that.

Maybe he'd even let them break out one of the forbidden games, with shooting and fighting. Jughead wondered if being a better shot in real life would translate into his gaming.

He wouldn't mention that to FP, though.

Unless it came up naturally.

Jughead tried to picture his dad with that information, but he was forced to admit a failure of imagination since he'd talked so very, very briefly about the bag that had been tied over his head - and FP had held him and _smelled his hair_ like he had that new baby smell that Betty had once tried to explain.

They were in uncharted territory.

Jughead now wondered what FP would say about a few other things. Maybe he would even find out when they went on vacation and were no longer on a 24/7 father-son bonding schedule.

The hot water was officially gone. Jughead slapped off the suddenly ice-cold stream.

"Still alive in there?" FP knocked on the door.

Jughead was _really_ surprised that he wasn't getting claustrophobic.

**00000**

Friday afternoon had passed slowly for Betty, but she was finally walking with Archie and Veronica and talking through the latest drama with Alice Carter.

It was a gorgeous day, and they wanted to get this discussion out of the way before Jughead - who was thankfully feeling a whole lot better after several days of lying low - joined them for a walk. Then they'd begin cooking dinner for everyone.

"So she wants Jug to be editor? That's going to get vetoed," Archie was blunt. "There's no way he can even have a byline, not with my mom working so hard to keep the press away from us."

"Us?" Veronica had fielded her share of curious questions from people she barely knew at school, but the press had not approached her at any point. "Do you think the press might try to get information from you?"

"The roommate angle is apparently big." Archie's tone was dry.

Betty could actually understand that. She had asked Archie more than a few times about how things were going.

"Yikes," Veronica shot Archie a concerned look. She'd tried not to pry and was suddenly realizing there might be a whole lot that Archie had elected not to share. "Is it really that intense rooming together? Would you _have_ a scoop for them?"

Archie shrugged, but Betty did not miss the flicker of his gaze toward her when he hesitated before responding. "We see a lot of each other. Jughead has just as much dirt on me, though. Mutually assured destruction."

Betty didn't buy that for a second. Her reporting instincts were going off like crazy. Which was a disturbing thought to have when the subject was Jughead.

"But he's _the story_," Archie waved a hand for emphasis, "and so he has to keep his head down and I have to keep my mouth shut." This time Archie's glance at Betty was obvious enough that Veronica noticed it.

"Betty would never," Veronica's tone was surprised. "I mean, you don't need to spill all of Jughead's secrets to us, or any of them for that matter, but you know that Betty would never take advantage of you - or him."

"Oh yeah, totally, I know," Archie was taken aback. That hadn't been what he'd been thinking at all. He just didn't want to get in the middle of their maybe-dating courtship ritual thingie. "Seriously; I know you wouldn't do that, Betty."

"Bu-ut," Betty finally stated the obvious, "you think I might do something else?"

"I'm honestly just trying to get out of the middle of everything," Archie suddenly realized that he could level with both of them, and do so without giving away any information that might become a problem later on. "You know who asks me about Jughead literally every day? FP," Archie began ticking off on his fingers, "my dad, and my mom. Sometimes Jughead, too."

"He… asks you about himself?" Veronica smiled, assuming that Archie had somehow misspoken.

"Uh, yeah," Archie suddenly realized that Jughead's nightmares and memory issues were his primary example - and the kind of thing that he should avoid talking about. He had sometimes felt like he should just start a sleep diary for Jughead, though instead of Jughead logging information it would be Archie taking notes on what Jughead said or did in his sleep. "You know, just feedback on how he's doing. Reality checks."

That was also true, though it was more along the lines of Jughead occasionally asking about random subjects either "am I crazy? I am, right?" or "is it just me?" and not anything like the near-daily Spanish Inquisition from the adults in the household.

Archie decided it was officially time for evasive maneuvers.

"Hey, by the way, I've been playing my guitar again."

"Really? What are you working on?" Veronica was immediately enthusiastic. Archie had not played for her in months, and she'd suspected he had not been playing at all. "Are you planning to play in public again?"

"Maybe," Archie grinned as he withheld the information teasingly. "And you'll have to wait and see. I've been messing around with my electric guitar, and I'd definitely need a drummer and some backup vocals before I could play some of the songs in public."

"Well, count me in if you need female vocals," Veronica tucked her arm into Archie's.

"We'll see," Archie grinned down at his girlfriend and wrapped his arm around her instead.

Betty hadn't seen her two friends as a couple much before, primarily because there had been so much tension between her and Archie for the duration of the time that the two had been together, but she had to admit that they were very cute together.

She was actually really jealous.

They got to the Andrews' house and Jughead was clearly waiting for them. He walked out onto the porch before they even got to the steps.

"Do you mind if we bring Trig on the walk?" Jughead seemed mostly to be asking Betty, and he did so apologetically. "Only because I haven't seen him in almost a week. I'll bring food." Trigger was always a little tamer when he'd had a snack.

"Of course, Juggie," Betty figured it was time she made peace with the dog. It was obvious that he was a significant part of Jughead's routine now. "I'm sure he misses you."

They dropped off their backpacks in the Andrews' house and Jughead pocketed a small envelope from the impressive stack of mail that was on the hall table.

"Devoted fan?" Veronica smiled curiously at Jughead, who seemed remarkably more comfortable in his own skin after staying home with the flu for the past few days. "That looked like a card."

"I-," Jughead had recognized the envelope and grabbed it without thinking, "I like the cards. They're usually more interesting, and-," Jughead grabbed a pen from the assorted items scattered on the table with the mail, "if I'm inspired to write anything, the envelopes are a good surface."

"I need to ask you about that, actually," Betty was glad Jughead had raised the topic of writing. "There's an opening at _The Blue and Gold_, and a few people thought you might be right for it."

"Yeah?" Jughead grabbed the leash for Trigger and the four friends left the house together.

**00000**

When they had walked the few blocks to get Trigger, Betty was shocked to discover that they were actually heading to the scary house that her mother regularly ranted about.

And her mother was not wrong.

Jughead didn't seem to register the obvious disrepair of the house, overgrown lawn with large patches of dirt here and there, and the actual broken window on the second floor.

"Hey, Trig's missing," Archie observed. "I thought he was always tied out here."

"Not always," Jughead didn't hesitate; he walked up to the house and looked in the window next to the front door before he knocked.

Trigger's head popped up instantly.

"Heyyy, buddy," Jughead greeted the dog enthusiastically. "Is your family home?"

Trigger barked once, but there didn't seem to be anyone in the house.

"We should go, man," Archie called from the sidewalk. The others had not followed Jughead to the decayed-looking front porch. "I don't think anyone's here."

"Hang on," Jughead tried the door then. When it opened he looked startled, but grinned back at his friends. "We'll have him back before anyone knows he's gone."

"Jughead, no-," Archie started walking toward his friend then.

Betty and Veronica exchanged wide-eyed glances.

"So, what, Brandon taught him that it's okay to break in and steal pets?" Veronica spoke quietly so the boys would not overhear.

"I have no idea," Betty replied just as softly. She raised her voice then, "Jughead! We should leave Trigger here. Let's just go."

A car pulled into the driveway right beside them.

The girls were startled and immediately looked over to see what Archie and Jughead's reactions were.

Archie looked panicked.

Jughead waved toward the vehicle like everything was perfectly normal and they were not in the middle of stealing a dog.

The man and woman who got out of the car looked… perturbed.

"Hey, uh, Jug was just knocking and… the door opened and then - hey! - you drove up. That was great timing. Uh, sorry about this," Archie spoke quickly, realizing that Jughead was reacting inappropriately to the situation and was liable to say just about anything.

"I came by to take Trigger for a walk," Jughead held up the leash.

"Oka-ay," the woman spoke. She still looked uneasy and didn't say anything more as Jughead clipped the lead onto Trigger's collar and waved again as he turned to leave.

"Hey," the man called after Jughead, "if he's out in the yard, that's one thing. You stay out of the house, though. If he's inside, he's working."

"Sure thing," Jughead's tone was agreeable, but light enough that both the man and woman reacted as if he was dismissing the request.

"He will," Archie grabbed Jughead's shoulder and towed him away from the house. "Don't worry. Sorry again."

"Jughead," Betty spoke quietly as they walked away from the house, still shocked. "You just broke into their house."

"I didn't break anything," Jughead was puzzled. "They know me; I was just getting Trig."

"Why are you debating this?" Archie was annoyed now. "Jughead, you can't go into people's houses when they're not home. This is basic stuff."

"I _know_ that," Jughead insisted. "But Trig needs-,"

"Trigger is not your dog. Period." Archie saw a strange look flash across Jughead's face then and wondered if his tone had been too harsh. "Look, I know you worry about him. You should have apologized for opening their door, though, and you shouldn't have even considered taking Trig out of the house. That's all I'm saying."

Jughead looked stricken now. "I was stealing their dog, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, you kind of were," Veronica confirmed.

"Just apologize after the walk," Archie hoped that would be an end to this. "They seemed pretty cool about it, all things considered, so it's probably okay."

They let it drop then.

After their walk, Jughead knocked on the door to the house instead of simply hooking Trigger up to the short run in the yard as he normally did. When the woman answered the door he apologized.

"Look, you seem like a nice kid," the woman seemed to have recovered from being upset. "We just need Trigger to be a guard dog because we've had break-ins before. He can't be out on a walk with you when we're not here - especially not when our lock is broken."

Jughead frowned, feeling even more apologetic once he'd heard that.

"You can still walk him. He's really looking good from the exercise."

Jughead smiled at that. "Yeah, he is."

"Stay out of the house, though?"

"Sure thing." This time Jughead gave a small salute when he turned to leave, and the woman seemed satisfied that she'd been heard.

**00000**

"So then Reggie's like 'but what if I'm _trying_ to confuse the reader?' and Ms. Cardell just about combusted." Archie gestured as he sprinkled cheese over the lasagna the girls had assembled. He'd been deemed fit for this job, at least.

Jughead smiled, still a little subdued after the walk but appreciative of the roast of their teacher.

"I hear she remembers you," Veronica grinned mischievously at Jughead. She was making garlic bread as if she had a vampire phobia, and Archie seemed to be noticing that with a look of consternation.

It was enough to make Jughead a little envious.

Betty was making dressing for a Caesar salad, and Jughead was supposed to be chopping the lettuce up. Archie had confiscated the knife, though, joking that he wasn't supposed to be handling weapons. When the joke fell flat for Betty and Veronica - who admittedly had not been present for the dozens or perhaps even hundreds of other jokes in that vein from Archie - Jughead hadn't reclaimed the knife.

The lettuce remained unchopped.

Instead, Jughead had claimed a section of the kitchen island right in the center of the action, hopped up to sit where he could see everyone, and he was now absorbing every detail - every feeling - of being surrounded by his friends in the Andrews' home.

This was what he was fighting for, Jughead reflected. All of the lies, all of the tricky navigations in conversation, and every moment when it felt like his head would explode if he had to think through the possible ramifications of one more statement - it was all worth it. This was his family, and he'd do that and more to maintain Rose's protection of them all and to keep the FBI from coming after anyone. It would get easier with practice. It was already getting easier.

"Well, yeah," Jughead pushed his hair out of his face now and replied to Veronica. "People who have never met me 'remember' me now."

"That's not Ms. Cardell," Veronica was laughing now. "You really had her number. Are you going to be able to work with her?"

The adults had been sent to relax in the living room with cheese and crackers while the teens made dinner, and they were tuning in and out of the conversation in the kitchen while chatting about the construction project that FP would be rejoining on Monday. This caught FP's attention, though.

"You're going to be working with a teacher? For tutoring, or is this a project?"

"Uh-," Jughead slid his legs around so he could face toward the living room instead of the prep area. "A project."

"He's been nominated to be editor-in-chief for _The Blue and Gold_ for the very end of this year - and all of next year. It's great for college applications," Betty offered. "The job is basically his if he wants it. I'll help wherever I can."

"We'll see," FP thought it sounded right up Jughead's alley, but Mary was already shaking her head. "I'll have to find out a little more, Jug."

"Uh-huh," Jughead scooted back around so he could face his friends again. He widened his eyes at them and shook his head once FP couldn't see his expression, indicating that they should let the subject drop.

Betty decided to jump in. "Archie, will you play something for us tonight?"

"Because carrying you all through the cooking process isn't enough?" Archie joked as he bent to pick up a few pieces of shredded cheese that had missed the lasagna. "Yeah, sure I can. Jug didn't appreciate my Tom Petty, so I could really use a better audience."

"You were singing _at_ me," Jughead responded. "Those were actual _macro_aggressions."

"What on earth was he singing?" Mary was confused but curious.

"Don't encourage them," Fred was already covering his face with his hands. He'd been treated to some of Archie's goofier songs over the years and his son was an entertaining performer - but could sometimes get into a mode that was funnier to him than to anyone else.

Before the events of the previous fall Jughead had occasionally joined the comedy act, and the combination was usually very hard to stop. Fred had taken to banishing the two to Archie's bedroom when this happened during sleepovers and their hijinks ran overly late into the night - and it typically involved Archie howling with laughter and singing, while Jughead took the quieter role of slyly winding him up even further at key moments.

It was nice to think that Jughead might be ready and willing to do that again, but that didn't mean Fred wanted the whole evening to devolve in quite that manner.

"Tom Petty?" FP was thinking through the possibilities.

"I'm thinking I should play it for a school event, maybe," Archie grinned at Jughead, who peeled a leaf of lettuce free and threw it at him.

"Seriously, what was he singing?" Mary was smiling along with the boys' energy, but only tentatively since she wasn't entirely sure whether she should be laughing or scolding.

"Oh," FP had realized what the song likely was. "_Really_, Archie?"

"'By Brandon' scans really well in place of 'for ransom,'" Archie's grin became even bigger. "A sadly necessary change, since nobody would actually pay money for you."

More lettuce was thrown.

"'Refugee,' Mary," Fred put it together now too. "Yeah, that won't be happening anywhere that anyone can hear it, Archie."

The girls were both wide-eyed now.

"When you someday have a terrible tragedy in your life," Jughead pronounced, "I am going to find every song I can about it. And my singing voice is more punishment than yours, so you should be very afraid."

"I'll help you out and find you some songs about being afflicted with a terrible roommate," Archie replied. "I'm thinking... Country Western."

"We actually need some of that lettuce for the salad, Jughead," Betty rescued the head of lettuce from him when he started pulling off more ammunition - even as Archie started scooping up some of the leaves he'd been pelted with and started firing back.

"Can we not have a food fight in the middle of preparing dinner?" Fred's tone was too amused for his words to even slow them down.

FP was a little distracted by the thought of how apropos the song lyrics were and how disturbing that actually was. When a piece of lettuce missed its mark and hit him, though, he was jolted into realizing that he was missing something important: Archie's teasing was making it easier for Jughead to talk about what had happened without it automatically being a big deal. That was huge.

The boys were quickly moving on from their limited supply of lettuce to playfully roughhouse in the kitchen, and the girls made moves to protect the food. They seemed to be realizing that things were actually okay, and the joking was not malicious or going to blow up on them. Veronica started jokingly cheering the boys on from the sidelines, and then Betty joined in.

This had been unthinkable progress even one week ago.

It made FP nervous, to be honest. It seemed too fast. The 'day from hell' notwithstanding, they were probably due for a lot more than the proverbial 'one step back.'

Archie knocked over a chair and Veronica yelped at him when it narrowly missed her feet. Fred got up to intervene then.

FP took a deep breath and decided to just enjoy their steps forward, even if he would likely have to fight to keep them later on. Jughead was jumping clear of Fred like he'd been scalded, recognizing that he and Archie had triggered a parental response to their shenanigans and might be in trouble.

"You're fine, Jughead," FP spoke up. "Fred's just worried about the food."

Fred shot FP a look, and FP smirked at him.

Then Jughead's eyes caught his. He seemed to be assessing what he saw there, and deciding whether he believed FP in this moment.

When he had finished weighing whatever he was seeing - and then relaxed his posture - FP found himself breathing easier too.

Yeah, there were going to be steps back.

They'd keep climbing onward and upward, though.

**00000**

**I wanted to write more. And I couldn't. Because father-son symmetry. That does mean that the next chapter is rolling, though. :-D **

**As ever, I'll look forward to hearing any thoughts, reactions, and feelings! I hope you're having a really fantastic week, too. My good mood really should benefit one and all, right? :)**

**-Button**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten! Well, story, you do you. :)**

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for your latest thoughtful review! Consistency? Straight talk? It's really a whole new world! Brand being MIA is SO hard, though, agreed. Trig occupies a unique space for Jug, yep, and he hasn't fully realized that yet; I knew that unlocked-door scene was risky without a full-on voiceover (a mouse-over text captioning the event, maybe? :-D), and I'm glad it stuck out... and I hope it will make (total) sense as we get further in. And does anything ever remain easy after those patches of sudden relief come along? Eh, maybe. We will see! Yay for**** Archie being teenager-ish, too. :-D If it works, it works!**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Fred had walked through houses with many of his friends over the years, lending his expertise and impressions to the involved and sometimes difficult task of purchasing a home. There had been some very odd experiences along the way, and invariably some new information that Fred learned about those friends through the process. It was surprisingly intimate.

With FP and Jughead it was more like one of those television shows where families were presented with a new house. Actually, that was probably something that _would_ be offered to FP and Jughead if they didn't get a place of their own relatively soon, Fred reflected. They'd turned down another round of interviews this week, and more than one seemingly-random offer from well-meaning people who wanted to help in any way that they could.

In fact, Jughead had unilaterally accepted some dog-related supplies before FP had found out about it and told him it was all going back. Fred suspected that a few items hadn't made it back to the pet store chain, but that was between Jughead and his father. Thankfully.

They'd walked through several houses, and Jughead had keyed in primarily to features that resembled the Andrews' home. FP was more concerned with the location (location, location), and was satisfied with any place that had at least two bedrooms and one and a half baths. Anything more, he warned Jughead, meant more housework.

Jughead had responded that he'd willingly do chores if they got a dog.

FP had said he'd do chores, dog or no dog, and he didn't want to hear any more ultimatums.

Jughead had replied that negotiations were not ultimatums.

FP had said he'd be the judge of that.

The buyer's agent had edged away from them as they continued that particular discussion throughout their investigation of one house.

Fred had jokingly pretended not to know them.

Honestly, it had gone really well. They'd fallen in love with a house that wasn't quite as close to school as the Andrews' and Coopers' homes, but was still within walking distance. It was further from Trigger as well, a factor that Jughead had suggested taking into account and FP had firmly vetoed, but still within reasonable walking distance of the dog.

FP had obviously been sold when he saw Jughead's expression as he explored the walk-out basement that was set up as a gym. The teen seemed fascinated by the idea that the basement had such easy access to the back yard, and it was probably a good thing for their bargaining position that the sellers had not seen FP's face when he watched Jughead inspecting every inch of the finished basement.

Fred had taken a closer look at the newly redone kitchen, updated bathrooms, and open concept design. The three bedrooms were roomy and bright, and the house was well kept up and should hold its value.

They put in an offer that night, and it was accepted on Monday.

Which was helpful, since the Jones men needed some good news to focus on.

**00000**

On Monday morning, Veronica finished a complicated problem at the board and was grateful that she hadn't made a mistake and could take her seat without criticism. This was a class that she shared with Jughead, and he gave her a small congratulatory smile when she turned away from the board.

The math teacher was a little out of his comfort zone in this class and that had made the term painful for everyone as they slowly mastered the concepts. The more able students realized that the explanations they were getting were not nearly as clear as they could - should - have been at the outset. The less able students had either switched out of the class or were failing.

It had been nice to see Mr. Tyler take it easy on Jughead, though, and Veronica had approved as he casually skipped her friend when calling on people to work at the board. She wasn't sure how other classes were going for Jughead, but at least one teacher seemed sympathetic.

Although Veronica did not envy Jughead trying to catch up on anything with Mr. Tyler as a teacher.

As if in response to her reflections, Jughead raised his hand.

"Yes?" Mr. Tyler seemed surprised - and dismayed.

Veronica suddenly wondered if he'd been being kind to Jughead - or hoping not to have to work with him. Maybe teachers didn't like helping students catch up with… okay, months of work. They probably didn't, come to think of it. But still.

Jughead's question didn't make a lot of sense to Veronica, and she might have been worried about having missed key details in the class, were it not for the fact that Mr. Tyler looked lost as well.

"Should I do that?" Jughead finished his question. "I can do it either way."

"Well," Mr. Tyler looked profoundly uncomfortable but was clearly trying to project that he had a firm answer, "you could follow the example in chapter thirty-seven, but-"

"Yeah, I know - horseshoes and hand grenades," Jughead waved a hand in agreement, and to hurry the conversation. "Assuming there's wind resistance, gravity, and no sign of spherical cows. Which way is better?"

Veronica's eyes narrowed. This was weird, and it sounded like Jughead was quoting someone.

"If you had taken more advanced math, you could-," Veronica didn't follow much after that.

"And then?" Jughead looked confused.

"Did you not understand that?" Mr. Tyler suddenly looked more confident. Students not understanding the material was admittedly his best case scenario this year, Veronica had noticed.

"Yeah, I missed the 'advanced' part. I think," Jughead lifted his pencil to show that he was ready to write. "Could you maybe do an example on the board?"

Mr. Tyler's ears began to turn slightly red.

"Sorry - I know we don't have a lot of time in class," Jughead suddenly looked worried, as though he was only just registering Mr. Tyler's discomfort for the first time.

"No; of course. Good to see someone take an interest," Mr. Tyler was almost speaking to himself now. He turned to the board and began sketching out the example Jughead had apparently been describing.

"Why does the military do-" Jughead asked about more topics they hadn't begun to cover. Veronica began to stare at Jughead. She was not the only one.

"I wouldn't know. I got an education," Mr. Tyler snapped back at Jughead. This time Veronica knew he hadn't understood the question at all.

"Where?"

Veronica was pretty sure the question had been meant innocently, since they'd been talking about the military's style of teaching math. Mr. Tyler clearly saw this as the out he needed, though.

"You're excused, Mr. Davies," Mr. Tyler gestured to the classroom door and then folded his arms.

"What?" Jughead's tone was startled now. "Why?"

Veronica closed her eyes. She'd gotten this far by keeping her head down, but-

"Mr. Tyler? I really don't think he meant anything." Veronica smiled in as conciliatory a manner as she could and cocked her head toward where Jughead was sitting.

"Yeah, I just wondered why-,"

Mr. Tyler cut him off, "That is quite enough, Mr. Davies."

Jughead gathered up his books, and he looked vaguely ill when he shot a look at Veronica.

"Mr. Tyler, please-," Veronica had to try one more time.

"If he apologizes, I suppose I could consider overlooking this incident. Under the circumstances," Mr. Tyler gave Jughead a challenging look now.

"I'm sorry," Jughead said quickly. "I really didn't mean to - uh - question your teaching methods."

"Well, keep that in mind when we work together next year and it should be just fine," Mr. Tyler sounded like he was back to normal now. Veronica breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Next year?" Jughead was still standing by the door.

"When you repeat the year," Mr. Tyler said, as if it were obvious. "When you get the education you are meant to have from this class. It will all be much clearer to you then."

Veronica had reason to breathe another sigh of relief when Jughead did not respond to that, even though he went pale and his eyes flickered over the other students in the classroom with a mortified expression. He avoided eye contact when he returned to his seat and slouched down over his desk. His hair hid his face for the remainder of the period.

"Jughead," Veronica touched his shoulder as she was leaving class and he was packing up his books. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Jughead heaved a sigh. "I'm just not sure what I'm doing here if they've already made a decision about next year. I thought I'd be allowed to sit finals or whatever, and see how it went."

Veronica was pretty sure it was more complicated than that.

"I don't know. Can you ask? Arrange a sit-down with Principal Weatherbee even?"

"I'd have to text the whole army, but I could probably set something up," Jughead started out of the classroom.

"How do you know all that math? We're - obviously - in the same class, but I was entirely lost. It sounded really impressive," Veronica figured this feedback might cheer Jughead up marginally as he headed to his next class.

"I had a private tutor," Jughead raised his eyebrows at Veronica meaningfully.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah," Jughead shrugged now. "Don't tell anyone, okay? It's the kind of thing that gets weird."

"Yeah, no," Veronica agreed. It _was_ weird. "I won't. You should tell your guidance counselor, though. Figure out what classes you should be in."

"Maybe," Jughead smiled ruefully now. "Fun conversation."

"If it gets you out of this class, yeah," Veronica looked at Jughead like he was crazy. "Seriously, take everything you can get."

Jughead smirked then. "Tell that to my dad."

The bell rang.

"Thanks for helping," Jughead waved as Veronica began to head to her next class.

"Of course," Veronica smiled. "It was fun."

Jughead took a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't all a done deal yet. He could still find out what his options were. He had the most recent note in his pocket today, for moral support. The note he'd pocketed before the walk with Trigger and his friends had said 'You're only as strong as the weakest link in the chain.'

Jughead would just have to make sure that even his 'weakest link' was up to the task. And remember to mock Brand about this one as well.

**00000**

Alice had waited anxiously for Jughead's return to school. She wasn't sure what to expect, but she wanted to know if things would continue on in their promising way - or if he'd thought better of reconnecting once he'd heard from his friends.

They did not share any classes - which was not an accident - so it seemed like lunch would likely be the time when all was revealed.

And it was.

Alice was even more disappointed than she'd thought possible when she tried to catch Jughead's eye and he ducked his head and turned away.

That was that, then. Alice would have to make some decisions, because it seemed like Jonas - Jughead - had made his.

**00000**

Jughead managed to set up a meeting for later in the week to discuss finals and classes. After lunch he went to History class quickly. His dad and Mrs. Andrews had told him that he needed to get more information about the editor-in-chief position before they would consider it. Jughead would not be permitted to have a byline, but he was glad that they were at least willing to hear the details about the editing side of the position.

"Ms. Cardell?" Jughead entered the classroom.

"Jonas?"

Jughead understood the teachers who just read names off of their rosters, but Ms. Cardell had known his name before and he'd corrected her once already since returning to school. He decided to ignore it for now, though, since he was trying to work with her - and needed a favor.

"I was wondering if I could have some information about being editor of _The Blue and Gold_," Jughead explained his errand quickly. "My dad has a few questions. I'd really like to do it, though, so hopefully we can figure it out." Jughead remembered Kevin's advice and didn't attempt a smile when he wasn't feeling it.

"I figured you'd be asking for special treatment soon enough," Ms. Cardell leaned back in her chair. "Well, let's hear it. What are your demands?"

Jughead blinked.

"Jug?" Betty leaned into the classroom. There were still a few more minutes before the bell would ring. "Hi! Was Ms. Cardell just telling you about the unanimous support for you as editor? It was _really_ nice to see."

Betty stepped in the door, nodding to acknowledge the teacher as she continued. Veronica had let her know that something had happened in math class, and even without the details Betty had decided to see if she could help smooth at least part of Jughead's day. When she'd arrived and heard Ms. Cardell's words, Betty had decided to jump right into the fray.

"And you know what else," Betty widened her eyes dramatically, "I _just_ heard from Veronica that you'll be meeting with Principal Weatherbee this week to talk about how the transition is going, and give your full report. He is such a sweetheart; do you think you could ask him about sitting down with someone from _The Blue and Gold_? I think that if he makes a statement about how the faculty have supported you, that might be a great quote for our next issue."

Jughead gave Betty a small smile and a grateful nod. "Sure, Betty. I bet he'd love to talk to a reporter about how quickly I've reacclimated - and I'd really like to thank all the teachers who have been so willing to work with me." Not that Mary Andrews would allow any of that to happen, but he figured Ms. Cardell would not realize that.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later Jughead had the information he needed and was settling in for class to begin.

Playing hardball was exhausting, and it sounded like there might be even more of it this week.

But Jughead was more hopeful now, after Veronica and Betty's show of support. He reached down to the note again, too, and figured his 'links' were all shored up for the time being.

That feeling lasted until dinnertime.

**00000**

"The FBI were always going to do regular follow-up visits. You knew this," FP was not thrilled to hear that their next interview would be in just a week and a half, since that seemed awfully soon - but he also wanted to get it over and done with since it was clearly going to have to happen one way or another. Apparently there were a few things they wanted to go over with Jughead, and this time FP would be allowed to sit in on the meeting.

"It won't be the agents who came here when we had the credible threat." FP had confirmed that right away, and hoped that was much of the problem for Jughead - and not the FBI generally, who would unfortunately be following up with them periodically for some time.

"It's not like I have a choice."

Jughead had taken Trig out running and come home feeling prepared to tackle homework and develop more hardball strategies for getting through the rest of the term. He'd also been pleased to hear that he and his dad would be moving as soon as they could arrange the inspection and other steps for completing the purchase of their new home. Fred had pitched in already to help them get squared away on the loan details, and he offered to help now with lining up appointments so that they could hopefully close on the house within the week - and start moving the very next weekend. It was fast, but they would not be moving far away.

Jughead felt good about all of that.

FP and Fred had to fly to Washington, D.C. on Saturday, though, for a consultation with some reunification expert that FP had been on a waitlist with forever. It would all happen at once, and they were still trying to figure out what that would look like. It was stressful, even though it was all positive.

Navigating the FBI again was not positive, though. Telling the headache-inducing lies to avoid mentioning Rose or Alice was hard enough, let alone tweaking accounts of events just slightly to fit the 'legend' - and now adding his dad to the mix would complicate things even further. Jughead wished they would all just leave him alone and let him focus on one problem at a time.

Figuring out if he'd be held back in school, for instance.

Fred and Mary Andrews had generously ceded the house to FP and Jughead for this conversation, and had taken Archie out to Pop's and then to a movie.

"Do you want to talk about what happened in debriefing?" FP motioned Jughead into the living room, since they'd finished dinner. He waited for Jughead to sit on the couch and then sat next to him - so he wouldn't have the option of choosing a seat further away from his father. "With the FBI, the counseling, or maybe that self defense class?"

"I don't want to talk about anything ever again," Jughead groaned. FP waited silently, so he continued. "I want to pass my classes without a fight over each one. I want to talk without worrying about it all coming out wrong. I want a break."

"You want to schedule that vacation?" FP noticed how tense Jughead's shoulders were and he made a point of relaxing his own shoulders back into the couch cushions. "Come on, lean back with me. Let's talk about getting out of here."

"Yeah?" Jughead looked over at his dad. He'd assumed this would be an unrelenting discussion of the FBI and debriefing.

"Wreck diving sounds dangerous," FP leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Talk me through how it works. Do we need to get certifications?"

"That would help." Jughead realized that with his eyes closed, FP wasn't monitoring whether he relaxed or stayed tense, or anything else. He could do whatever he wanted.

Jughead examined his father's position and tried recreating it for himself. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes as well.

"Do you know any of the stories of the wrecks up there?" Jughead asked then.

"Just a couple," FP shook his head and Jughead felt the cushion vibrate under his neck. "The _Edmund Fitzgerald_. That sort of thing. Can we dive that one?"

"Nope," Jughead began filling his dad in. "There are some great ones, though."

They stayed like that, talking through their mental pictures of the vacation they would take together.

When the Andrews family got home, they found FP and Jughead asleep on the couch.

Archie went up to bed and Fred promised to wake the two and send Jughead along soon.

He and Mary washed the dishes that were on the kitchen island first, quietly talking about the film they'd enjoyed with Archie.

"Did you ever think those two would do this well?" Mary finally asked, gesturing toward the living room. They'd need to wake the Jones men soon or they'd both be very sore in the morning.

"I knew they had it in them," Fred said slowly, considering the question carefully. "I didn't know if they could bring it out of each other quite like this."

"He's easier to work with when he's asleep," FP's voice startled them both. "That helps."

Mary laughed and they walked into the living room.

"Same," Jughead didn't open his eyes, but a smile lit up his features.

"The dishes woke you up?" Fred asked, shaking his head at the two.

"Hard to sleep through other people doing your work," FP joked. "Thanks, both of you. For the whole evening."

"It was fun; don't worry about it." Fred was tired. He had to admit, at least to himself, that the move scheduled to begin on Friday afternoon was looking like the light at the end of a really long tunnel, but he also sensed that they were all living through one of those times in life that nobody involved would ever forget.

Fred was more right about that than he knew.

**00000**

**They're officially out of the influenza bubble! I think we all know what that means: chapter eleven is TOTALLY kicking my butt. **

**Please spare me a kind vibe or two as I machete my way through the next chapter! You know by now that reviews make me smile and write and... not do other things that maybe (maybe) I should from time to time. ;) **

**Aaaaand I hope your week is going as well as mine is! :-D**

**-Button**


	11. Chapter 11

**The machetes won. But it was a near thing.**

**Thanks for the great review, Living Lucid Dream! I am unbelievably proud that anyone trusts me with this crazy story (taking a flourishing bow now). You'll have to let me know if the Trigger connection (the lovers, the dreamers, and Jug... ;) is making more sense after this chapter. No worries if it's still not; we will get there. Fire safety is a thing, too, agreed (egress from the gym = yay!). I feel a little badly that the bad teachers are getting so much space, but this story has a mind of its own. Good teachers are the norm at RH, let's say. I laughed about the coursework comment since I'm counting how many days Jughead's been back in school... and he may soon have to go on the lam from the truancy officer (would that not be the BEST sequel? ;). I'm glad the Alice plot is still going strong for you. That is still surprising me as it plays out (hang in there, team Alice!). And hooray for enriching details! :-D **

**Enough chit-chat, though...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Friday was a hopeful day.

The meeting with the guidance counselor yielded exactly one option: Jughead could attempt the final exams, just as he'd thought, and if he passed with a C or above they would do what they could to square things away for the fall term. They'd attempt placement testing during the summer to be sure he was in the right classes going forward, though Jughead had almost regretted asking about that when he'd been forced to explain Brand's tutoring and everyone got _really_ uncomfortable. It seemed to remind them that Jughead's lost time hadn't been one long montage of 'secret mission,' or something.

Teach a godson to fight, and become a hero. Teach him select topics in math, literature, biology, and history and - apparently - become a freak of nature.

Brand's aversion to teaching chemistry was really coming back to bite Jughead, too.

According to everyone, Jughead had to be tutored. And they were not amused when he pointed out that tutoring had gotten him into this mess. Since there was not time to assess what he knew and make a plan that made any sense based on what he'd learned from Brand and what gaps remained in his understanding, the suggestion was simply that he be given tutoring in all subjects. They'd 'figure it out from there,' which obviously meant 'throw the kitchen sink at the problem and hope that magically fixes everything.'

There was some very good news here, though, beyond the obvious fact that there was a route forward: Betty volunteered to tutor him.

It had been a really confusing few weeks, but Jughead had paid close attention as Betty kept on showing up. It wasn't clear to him whether she wanted to try dating again, but one thing was clear: he wasn't about to get over her anytime soon.

Jughead decided that the best approach would be to get through the move at the end of the week, and then they'd finally - really - talk.

There was so much he couldn't say. Jughead still felt half trapped in his head with all of the overlapping and mutually exclusive lies. But he'd started getting the hang of just saying the things that he _could_ say, and doing the things that _were_ safe. It didn't have to always be a tightrope act with everyone.

The encouraging news about finals also meant that classes looked a lot less like a waste of time; Jughead buckled down with renewed energy. Betty had agreed to meet with him on Sunday evening for their first tutoring session, and Jughead figured that was as good a time as any to finally begin the larger conversation that they'd been avoiding.

It was time for a fresh start.

**00000**

It seemed to FP that it was really unfair that moving was an awful lot of work, considering the fact that FP and Jughead had very little left after the trailer fire. Jughead had only his limited wardrobe and a few possessions, and FP had been traveling very light since getting out of prison to homelessness.

What was left was everything that they'd been able to take for granted at the Andrews' home: furniture, linens, appliances, food - it was staggering when they began making lists, and Jughead tended to be less than helpful since he fixated more on the details that they'd have to sketch in later. FP just wanted to make sure they had the basics and didn't find themselves without toilet paper or forks or something. Screwdrivers and dish soap. Even those sorts of basics ended up being a huge list.

Mary had done some grocery shopping for them, Jughead in tow so that he could help pick out things he liked and learn from her which items qualified as 'staples' and which were purchased for specific meals. FP made sure that Jughead used his debit card to pay for the haul; the Andrews were getting awfully quick to cover their expenses, and he finally had the luxury of worrying about that putting a strain on their friendship - instead of just accepting what he needed in order to keep his son fed, clothed, and sheltered.

Fred and FP had spent that time bringing Jughead's mattress and FP's cot over to the new house, bought some unassembled furniture, and begun to set things up so the Jones men could move right in even while the house was still basically unfurnished.

Archie had been busy as well. He dug through the Andrews' attic and basement to come up with dishes and similar items that his family had meant to donate or put into a yard sale, and once Fred and Mary had looked over the assortment and okayed it, FP and Jughead felt a lot more ready to hit the ground running.

They were all grateful when they decided that they could call it quits for the day and cook up a late meal.

"First dinner in our new place," FP handed Jughead a plate of sirloin strips to set on the kitchen island. They would get a table soon, but for this first meal nobody minded making do.

"It's so exciting!" Mary Andrews agreed, smiling around at the space - which looked even roomier without furniture to stage it. "I think you're really going to love it here."

"And make a lot of new memories," Archie added with a grin. "Too cheesy?" He'd slid a small wrapped box onto the kitchen island and nudged it toward Jughead.

"Hey now, you've given us too much already," FP's gruff tone was primarily for Jughead's benefit, since his son was already abandoning the food preparation to reach for the box. "We really appreciate it, but this place is already full of 'housewarming gifts.'"

"It's for Jughead," Fred tried to be reassuring. He knew FP was quickly becoming uncomfortable with the outpouring of generosity that was probably doing more to make the Andrews feel better about the move than anything else at this point. Although Jughead actually seemed to welcome the provisions hungrily, and he was clearly a lot less uncomfortable than his father with the idea that they 'needed help.'

"All the same. I'll have to start paying you back if you do any more," FP's warning expression had stopped Jughead from continuing to reach for the gift. Having made his point, FP relented. "Oh, go ahead, boy. Don't be rude."

Jughead grinned. His eyes widened when he opened the gift and discovered a high-end digital camera. "Whoa. This is _awesome_. Thanks, Archie."

There hadn't been a huge number of family photos in the trailer, but learning that all had been lost had been one of Jughead's more painful discoveries after debriefing.

"We should get an 'extended family' photo tonight," Archie's grin matched Jughead's. "There's a timer and everything."

"'And everything' is right," Jughead was already poring over the manual.

"Put that away. We're going to eat." FP caught Fred's eye and gave him a nod to acknowledge that the gift was appreciated. It was obviously an expensive item, and Archie was already explaining that he'd stashed a camera bag and more lenses in the car to keep from giving away the surprise - none of which sounded cheap - but it was something that FP had not thought of getting for Jughead. That insight and care for his son was the gift as much as anything.

"I was going to get you a gaming system, but…" Archie laughed when even Jughead gave him a skeptical look. "Yeah, this is better."

After dinner, Archie gave Jughead's room his blessing and helped him take down the closet door. He was promising to come over and help build bookshelves when FP shooed him out to leave with his parents.

Jughead and FP cleaned the kitchen together quietly, each stopping periodically to look around at their new house with something approaching awe.

It was really happening. They had their lives back in a real, tangible way.

**00000**

Alice had spent days agonizing over the situation, but she'd finally made her decision when she realized that something had changed for her at school:

She was no longer public enemy number one.

Alice was now invisible.

She had already known that Jonas had erased her from the record, from the 'official version' of his stories, but now - apparently - he had also erased her from his notice. Even when Alice was right in front of him. His friends had followed suit. Everyone had, really, though it might just be that the groundswell of anger over her interview had finally dissipated.

It had left behind nothing more than cool indifference.

Alice would never have guessed, not in a million years, that indifference could be worse than the anger she'd experienced. And it was. _So_ much worse.

For all of those reasons, or maybe just the one reason, it was decided. There was nothing left to lose at this point, and Alice craved the return of her own voice to the situation - as well as the good pleasure of her mother, who was fast becoming her only friend and ally.

Alice would write the tell-all article. It would run in the school year's final issue of _The Blue and Gold_.

In the meantime, since she was not certain that she could trust her mother to leave the content wholly up to her - a deal-breaker for sure - Alice would information-gather and keep her plan a secret from everyone.

The decision was a relief. At long last, Alice would become the truth-telling valkyrie. She would no longer be ignored.

People would _finally_ understand.

**00000**

That night Jughead kept waking up to unfamiliar sounds, and each time he got up to absently touch his windowsill and look out at the neighborhood with a small smile. FP hadn't said anything right away when Jughead and Archie removed the closet door, but after the Andrews family had left he'd asked Jughead to think about whether sliding doors or something along those lines might be workable.

It sounded promising.

The next morning they planned to assemble some of the furniture Fred and FP had bought, and then FP would have to catch his flight in the late morning to go to DC with Fred. The flight back would be late on Sunday afternoon, so Jughead was going to spend the night bunking in with Archie one more time.

The boys had plans for sneaking a movie that Jughead technically wasn't supposed to watch, and seeing if they could convince Archie's mother to let them have Betty and Veronica over for a few hours for both dinner and the movie.

The night involved a lot of interrupted sleep for Jughead, but somehow it was one of the more restful ones that he could recall.

**00000**

Both of the Jones men were awakened by a loud knock on their door very early the next morning.

Jughead stuck his head out of his room, but once he saw that his dad was answering the door he went back to bed and didn't think about it again when he woke at a more reasonable hour.

Until he came down the stairs.

There were stacks of boxes in the otherwise-empty living room, and Jughead felt as though his heart had leapt into his throat.

"They're yours, Jughead," FP sounded weary. He was sitting in the kitchen area of their open concept first floor.

"They came?" Jughead touched a box, almost as if to make sure it was really there.

It was definitely there. But somehow it didn't feel the way he'd expected it would.

Jughead was suddenly, shockingly filled with remorse now that he was facing the reality of his possessions' arrival:

They hadn't brought Brand with them.

Instead, every trace of Jughead's life in Toronto sat here, instead of in the row home - a fact which meant that his last real tie to Brand was now severed. That was the final stage of moving on from someone, wasn't it? Returning all of that person's belongings.

Unless. There had to be a letter. A real one, and not one of the cryptic 'fortunes' that had been coming steadily in the mail. It must be in one of the boxes.

Jughead looked over at FP guiltily. It seemed wrong to do this in front of his dad.

"Open 'em up," FP still sounded exhausted just by the sight of the boxes, but he was resigned: their contents belonged to Jughead, and unlike the three outfits and half-destroyed backpack he'd returned with, FP had a sinking feeling that they'd never be rid of traces of Brandon in their home now that box after box had invaded their brand-new space.

Not with Jughead looking so hopeful, anyway.

FP pulled his knife from his pocket and tossed it to Jughead. "I'll cook some breakfast after I make a start on putting your bed together. We'll eat before I go."

FP left the room and headed upstairs.

Jughead began opening boxes.

**00000**

FP walked past to retrieve more tools, and Jughead was emptying each of the boxes.

**00000**

FP took a break to make some coffee, and Jughead was going over everything a second time, shifting each of the books and shaking out clothing.

**00000**

When FP had finished assembling Jughead's bed and finally began making breakfast, Jughead was shaking the books to see if anything fell out of them.

The great Brandon Davies hadn't even sent a note.

But FP couldn't bring himself to be glad about that. Not when Jughead's eyes were red-rimmed and he was still frantically searching the books for a letter that had never been written.

FP managed to get breakfast onto the kitchen island, but he was distracted by what was playing out in the living room and that meant he was cutting it close. He needed to leave right away to make his flight with Fred.

"Was there a-," Jughead stopped when he saw his father's expression. "There's no note."

"I'm sorry, Jughead," FP was only more surprised when he realized that was deeply, powerfully true. "I guess not."

Jughead seemed to crumple then. He clutched at his stomach and sank into a crouch before sitting all the way down on the floor, arms wrapping around his legs and his knees sliding up under his chin.

FP stepped toward him, but Jughead shook his head hard.

He would not touch his son after he'd been asked not to. FP froze where he was and waited, aching.

"Why - why did you look for me?" Jughead finally spoke, but he seemed almost dazed. He wasn't looking toward FP and it seemed like his eyes were not quite focusing.

FP answered cautiously. He had a bad feeling about where this was headed. "What do you mean?"

"Was it just because Brand wanted me?" Jughead looked down now, and his hair fell forward over his face. His voice lowered angrily. "You didn't want me, but you couldn't stand for me to be happy with someone else?"

"Jug-," FP's voice faltered. This was so much worse than he had ever pictured the arrival of Jughead's belongings being. "No. A thousand times, no."

"You _never _wanted me before Brand came," Jughead was beginning to have a catch in his voice like he was fighting back tears. His voice picked up speed and volume as he continued. "You never did _anything_ to change until it was too late and I was somewhere else. I was _someone_ else. This-" Jughead gestured toward the torn-apart boxes "is good news for you, I guess." His voice dropped down low again. "Don't even bother changing my name back. You won and Brand lost, so it's all over anyway. Now you can just go back to being-," Jughead seemed to choke on his own words.

"Jughead," FP caught a glimpse of the clock. He was late. He dearly wished that he could blow the whole thing off, stay here and sort this out as much as anyone could, but they'd been on the waitlist for so long. "I have to go now, but I- don't go to Archie's tonight. Stay here. I'll get my flight moved, and I'll come back on a red eye. I'll be here before you wake up, and we'll really talk."

FP hoped Jughead was hearing him.

"Please give me a chance, Jughead," FP crouched next to his son now. "I know I don't deserve one, and I can't earn one, but if you'll give me one… haven't these last weeks been okay? It's been okay, right?" FP heard a frantic note creeping into his own voice.

Jughead kept his face down and didn't seem able to respond; FP suddenly realized that he was crying and trying not to let on. "Look, we'll talk more tonight if you're awake when I get back. Or tomorrow when you wake up."

He had to leave. "Jug?"

"Go," Jughead managed. He didn't look up. "I'll stay here. For tonight."

FP grabbed his wallet and travel bag from next to the door. He waited there for a few moments, wanting desperately to go to his son.

"_Go_." Jughead looked up now, glaring at his father through his tears.

FP went.

**00000**

"You're divorced," Fred's assessment was simple as they waited in line to board their flight.

"Come again?" FP was watching his phone for any response to the dozens of texts he'd sent to Jughead.

"It's never easy being the custodial parent, even when it's with someone as responsible and easy to work with as Mary," Fred continued. "With someone who disappears, is unpredictable with following through on promises, and who overlooks the basics when it comes to your kid... it's a nightmare. He probably thinks that one adult lost interest in him - and you're next."

"That isn't even _close_ to what's going on. Don't forget that I have some experience with that already," FP avoided saying any names, for fear that passengers around them might realize who they were and what they were discussing. "He _cannot_ be in regular touch. This was it. One-time deal. You'd think he'd at least have the decency-" FP stopped, chagrined.

Fred gave FP a rueful smile. "I do not envy you that co-parent, either."

"He is _not_ a-," FP stopped and sighed heavily. "But I can't change what happened between them, can I?"

"You also have no control over what - _he_ -" Fred had noticed FP wisely omitting names "does in the situation. You can help your son, though. I think a red-eye home tonight is a good idea. We'll go together."

FP handed over his ticket to be scanned and they got into another line as people slowly shuffled onto the plane itself.

"I'll look up flights now," FP said over his shoulder to Fred and reached into his travel bag before recalling that his phone was already out. His hand hit an envelope.

FP's first thought was that it was a note from Jughead. Then he came back to reality: there had been no time for that. Then he thought of Brandon. Was is remotely possible that he _had_ written a letter and it had somehow fallen into FP's carry-on? His bag had been by the front door all morning, so it was conceivable.

Angling himself slightly away from Fred, FP pulled out the envelope to investigate. It had his name on it. He opened it.

'We need to talk. -Brand.' There was a phone number.

FP scowled. The day before, he'd have shredded the note without thinking twice. Right about now, though, it was tempting to call. Really tempting.

He put the note back in his bag.

**00000**

Archie received two texts: one from his dad, explaining that he'd be home early - around four am instead of the following afternoon - and that Jughead would not be sleeping over.

Then he received one from Jughead, sharing much the same information about flights and a change of plans, but adding that he was planning to go blow off some steam and the whole plan should be cancelled.

Archie figured that meant a marathon session with Trigger.

Confirming receipt of both texts, Archie decided to go over to Veronica's for the day. He didn't have a lot of homework left to do, and then he'd be free for the weekend.

The enthusiastic response from Veronica to his texted inquiry made Archie smile. The change of plans was apparently not all bad.

**00000**

Jughead left his phone on the kitchen counter, next to the untouched breakfast. FP was still texting, even though his plane had to be taking off any minute now.

After a quick shower, Jughead left through the basement door to avoid walking past the boxes in the living room. He carried Trigger's leash and noticed that it was chilly, but the air felt like it might warm up later in the day.

Jughead noted approvingly that it was not a bad walk from the new house to get Trigger. If he did stay with FP, which might be his only option for the time being, at least walks with Trigger were not about to become complicated.

His hands had almost stopped shaking by the time Jughead got to Trigger's yard, but he was immediately disappointed to see that Trig was not on his run.

Archie had been right about opening the door to someone else's home, but Jughead was suddenly too exhausted to come up with another plan for the day. He decided to just sit on the porch and wait.

As he went to sit down, though, Jughead heard voices in the house. He wasn't sure why it hadn't immediately occurred to him to knock, and then Jughead realized that he was used to someone looking out the window when he arrived. He hadn't seen anyone in the window, and his brain must have automatically made the connection to the house being empty of people.

Maybe the people were not Trigger's family. Maybe they were breaking in.

Jughead suddenly thought of Trig, no doubt somewhere in the house. If there had been a break-in, they would have done something with - to - Trigger. He was the guard dog.

He knew that was likely just irrational worry and idle imagination at work, but Jughead felt his neck and shoulders tense as he moved toward the door.

Something just felt wrong.

He was about to knock, looking in the window as he raised his hand. What Jughead saw stopped him, though.

One of Trigger's family was holding a piece of meat in front of Trig, who was restrained by a jagged-looking choke collar that he was pulling hard against. The voice that Jughead had heard was encouraging Trigger and stirring him up, but the dog couldn't reach the food.

It had never occurred to Jughead to wonder what might be involved in training a 'guard dog.' He suddenly realized that this was unlikely to be the half of it, though.

Without another thought, Jughead opened the door and stepped into the house. He might be on his own from now on, but he wouldn't do the same thing to his dog.

**00000**

Betty was disappointed to hear about the change of plans, but took heart; she'd be tutoring Jughead the very next day, a get-together which would include a tour of his new home. She'd looked up the listing online and was excited for both him and FP.

The day would also no doubt involve a lot of one-on-one time to talk about all sorts of things - all of the things that were finally changing, making Betty wonder what they might be closer to reaching.

Ever since the debriefing, Jughead had clearly been trying to find his bearings in a world that must be so familiar... but just different enough that he kept tripping up. The evening of the dinner party had seemed different, though, in spite of the strange beginning to their walk.

Betty had gotten a chance to see Jughead in the context of their group of four again, and ever since then she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he might not be ready to try dating again - but that they might be ready to at least talk about it all: what had happened, what they were thinking and feeling, and how to at least get back to being closer friends. Then they'd see what came of it.

Betty went over her notes and the stack of books one more time. Whatever was going on with Jughead's education, and it sounded complicated from what Veronica had shared, she wanted to be as prepared as possible.

They deserved to enter junior year together, on the same page, and to fully reclaim the lives that Brandon - and Blossom - had disrupted for them all.

**00000**

Jughead wasn't sure what one said when intervening in dog abuse, but thankfully it looked like just walking into the room had startled the man into stopping whatever he'd been doing.

The piece of meat fell to the floor and Trig snapped it up instantly.

"We talked about this, kid," The man regained his voice. "Not in the house, and not when the dog isn't outside."

"You're hurting him," Jughead made his tone cold, trying to channel Brand's unemotional approach to intimidating people. He spared a glance for Trig, though, and softened his tone for just a moment. "I'm here now, bud. You're safe."

"What are you doing in here?" The woman came into the kitchen now, and Jughead could see a few more people further inside the house. "It's been, what, a week since you said you'd stay out of the house?"

Jughead glared at her and made his voice cold again. "You can't do this to a dog. It's illegal. The police will be very interested in hearing about this." He wasn't one hundred percent sure that anything he'd seen was illegal, but it sounded better than anything else that had flashed through his head in that moment.

"Is that the sheriff's kid?" Someone from the other room seemed roused by that last comment.

Jughead figured he wouldn't correct anyone on that, just in case it helped strengthen his position. When his hand reflexively went to his pocket when he mentioned the police, he'd realized that he didn't have his cell phone. He'd have to bluff his way out of here with Trigger.

"Nah, he's just the kid who walks Trigger."

"Good, because I've got a whole lot of product on the counter in there," A raucous laugh had everyone in the living room joining in.

Jughead stiffened and started to look back at the counter behind him.

It had been a while since Brand had reminded him not to do that. Or maybe he'd become too used to viewing Trigger's family as friends. Or maybe the process of coming home had dulled his instincts.

Jughead wasn't sure what made him even begin to turn his back to a threat, but he knew that he'd gone about this all wrong even before something cracked over his skull and his vision went white with pain - and then dark.

**00000**

FP found that the reunification expert had been worth the wait - and probably could have saved them some agony over the past weeks had there been no wait in the first place.

Fred had reassured him again and again that this was specialized stuff, and they should just be proud that they'd eventually stumbled into a lot of what the man recommended. FP found that cold comfort, but he had to admit it was nicer than being blamed and scolded for not intuiting everything easily and right away.

And now they were back at the airport, waiting for a delayed flight.

FP texted Jughead yet again.

Even if he wasn't responding, FP hoped that Jughead was at least reading the texts. Fred was sprawled with their carry-on bags among the cluster of people who were also waiting on the delayed flight.

FP decided it was time to make a call. It went against what he'd just flown all this way to learn, but everyone had said again and again that every case was different - and theirs more than most. He'd follow his instincts, even though they certainly hadn't done a great job at every point in the process. They'd eventually gotten them where they were going, and if FP had to make mistakes along the way, well, he'd just man up and deal with it.

Signaling Fred and pointing to his cell, intentionally implying that he was phoning Jughead, FP walked away into the quiet late-night airport to find privacy. He had no idea how this call was going to go.

"Are you _trying_ to make this painful?" Brandon groaned into the phone in greeting. It was after three am.

FP found that made him dislike the man slightly less. Or maybe it was just nice to hear that he'd inconvenienced the great Brandon Davies. Dang, that nickname might stick.

"Good morning to you too," FP said evenly. He'd take control of this conversation, thank you very much. "What do we have to talk about?"

"Is the kid there? Put him on for a minute."

FP's jaw dropped.

"No, huh?" Brandon seemed to read the silence. "I need to explain something to him. If I know him, he's not asleep."

"He's not here." FP tried not to give away how shocked and angry he already was, just a few moments into the conversation.

"With all the love in the world, you did lock him up before you left him alone, right?" Brandon's flippant words did not match his concerned tone.

"_Are you suicidal_, Brandon?" FP dropped all pretense of being calm.

"He got the boxes, right? He's flipping out?" Brandon didn't wait for an answer. "Maybe you don't know this yet, but the kid's got a self-destructive streak a mile wide when that sort of thing goes down."

"What is this about?" FP felt his voice drop a register now.

"He and I need to do an interview. A national one. I just got clearance for it, and for sending those boxes, and I wanted to make sure you've kept him away from the media," Brandon was suddenly all business. He'd fought Rose tooth and nail for this, finally citing that Rose had wanted to work with him because he knew what he was doing.

Rose had suggested that Brand was losing objectivity, and he'd readily agreed - objectivity about Jones would mean stupid mistakes. Brand had _instincts_, and those were going to work out much better in this case.

"No."

"What kind of a parent _are_ you?" Brand's tone was awed and horrified now. "Forget the boxes; he's probably the freaking madwoman in the attic by now after reading all that media crap."

"No, you're not doing a national interview with my son." FP rolled his eyes.

"I haven't called. I haven't written. I had the note put in your bag," Brand listed.

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

Huh.

"You think that's going to get you anything?" FP found himself stepping up on the chairs bolted to the floor at an empty gate. This had turned into a showdown and his agitation had him pacing aggressively.

"I know it will," Brand's tone went cold. "Because you know I'm right about the media. He needs one good interview to turn things around, and I can make that happen. Don't put him through reentry without a chance to control the message."

FP wanted to sigh, but he didn't give Brandon the satisfaction. "When?"

"I need to see him first."

"Not gonna happen."

"You want a 'mystery guest' reveal on live television?" Brand's tone was facetious. "Oka-ay. I was thinking we'd prepare him, but-,"

"Don't be cute. It doesn't suit you." FP thought about this more.

"I'd come by, visit real quickly, say my piece, and leave. We'd meet for the interview a few weeks later." Brandon had apparently decided he wanted to get back to sleep before sunup. "Then I'd leave. No more contact unless you want a few phone calls and birthday cards."

"No." FP figured he could walk that back if he changed his mind later - but he wasn't opening up any doors now that might be difficult to close later. "You'll meet with me first. I'll make a decision then. Can you get to Riverdale this week?"

"I can be there tonight."

"Sunday night," FP confirmed since it was one of the odd hours of the night when the days start to run into one another. "I'll be in touch. Stay away from Jughead."

"Sure thing." Brandon's smirk was audible in his tone.

FP was already regretting the call when he hung up.

**00000**

**This chapter hurt to write. Next story: everyone is happy all the time and nice things happen at every turn. Good plan? Let me know how you're enjoying (and if things are still making sense!) as you are able!**

**-Button**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here we go!**

**Thank you for continuing your faithful reviews, Living Lucid Dream! Significantly more PTSD for sure, but I think it would be an instant classic... :-D And yay for the friendship happening on screen! I always like the details because that flavor (what KIND of good friend? Problem-solver? Willing shoulder?) makes the story for me. Alice is naive, yep. Seatbelts should remain securely buckled when it comes to her arc ('cuz I don't know where she's headed either!). I think writing the boxes scene made me sad IRL (oops), which was a first. I'm not sure the _most_ rewriting happened there of this story (this chapter is probably winning that award), but a lot did. Poor FP as "substitute Brand" (very well put!) was painful to write too. And yes: all the nopes! I so enjoyed your narration of your reading process. :-D (also: majorly flourishing bow for signaling clearly without _quite_ calling the shot. Woo-hoo!) FP and Brand are (black? gray?) magic together, and not exactly easy to write - but super fun. I'm kind of in love with those two in scenes together now. It might be a very, very bad thing. We shall see... :-D**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

_Earlier on Saturday_

**00000**

Jughead came to slowly and painfully, and was relieved to find that things were actually not too bad.

He'd been tied up with duct tape and he had a crazy blinding headache, but he was alone and he wasn't gagged or blindfolded - and he could tell right away that he could free himself. Brand had taught him well, and these were thankfully not professionals.

They were apparently drug dealers.

Jughead felt really stupid, but he also figured he could be out of here in just a few minutes. Maybe ten at the most. He started working his hands where they were duct taped behind his back, and tested the binding on his ankles. He might even be able to get out of that without freeing his hands.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was embarrassing, nothing more.

He was on the floor of a tiny bedroom, with a bed and end table looming over him. Nothing helpful was in sight, but he took a moment to really look around for anything he might be able to use before focusing on freeing himself without a tool. Brand had taught him that much.

Man, he was kicking himself for what had happened in the kitchen.

Jughead wrestled with his bindings, and as he began to work up a sweat he suddenly heard the door to the bedroom ease open.

He immediately dropped his head silently to the floor, ceasing all movement. The door opened further, but the footsteps that followed on the hardwood floor were not human.

"No, Trig," Jughead breathed the words. "Go away - you need to get out of this house, buddy. Don't bring anyone in here."

Trigger was thrilled to have found his playmate.

Jughead resumed working on his wrists while Trigger sniffed curiously around his hands' movement.

Both were startled when someone yelled from very close by. "The freaking dog's untying him! You gotta come see this!"

Okay, this was bad. Officially worse than embarrassing. Jughead figured he needed to get the duct tape off _right now_ or it was going to be obvious what he'd been close to achieving - and Brand had taught him that was good for a beating and then being tied up so that he'd never get free.

Neither sounded appealing.

Jughead wondered if he should be yelling for help, too. He wasn't gagged, though, and that suggested that nobody was worried about him making noise. He'd been focused on keeping quiet, and now that he'd been discovered he wasn't sure what Brand would recommend. Jughead was still hoping to get his wrists free, so maybe not bringing everyone in here right away was the right call.

He hoped so.

The woman rounded the corner in response to the man's yell. "Are you _high_? He's awake and you haven't even gagged him."

Oh.

Jughead redoubled his efforts on his wrists and got approximately half a yell for help out before the man clapped a hand over his mouth.

He actually had a lot of mobility to fight, though, so Jughead flipped himself onto his back right away so that his wrists would be slightly less obvious and the man would have a tougher time keeping him quiet. The man sat down all the way on the floor and pulled Jughead bodily up against his chest then, so he could put more leverage into the hand he had over Jughead's face. In doing so, the man crushed the painful injury on the back of Jughead's skull against himself.

Jughead winced, hoping he was dizzying from fear and lack of air - and not about to pass out again from the blow to his head. He fought even harder, sensing that he might be running out of time to do anything meaningful to free himself, and kept up his muffled yells just in case he could somehow be heard outside the house.

"Get the others. This isn't going to work." The man had a pretty strong advantage in his position, but it was clear to both him and to Jughead that the moment he tried to adjust anything, it would provide an opportunity for resistance.

Trigger had started barking now, concerned by what they were doing.

"You worried about your little friend, Trigger? Yeah, that's the problem now, dog, isn't it?"

Jughead continued thrashing and shouting into the hand over his mouth. When someone else eventually came in to provide backup, he wasn't sure he'd have a prayer. He needed to figure out how to end this.

Then Trigger lunged.

"HELP ME!" Jughead bellowed with his whole body when the man let go of him. "PLEASE - SOMEBODY -"

The woman ran back into the room and grabbed Jughead's face. The man was now wrestling what looked and sounded more like a rabid wolf than Jughead's running companion - and screaming in pain.

Jughead was more than a match for the woman. He took a deep breath and then pitched his head backward, and she let go of him with a shriek.

That hurt him a _lot_ more than it hurt her.

Jughead's eyes blurred, either from pain or tears, and he sucked in a deep breath to brace himself - because he could tell that any moment a much larger wave of pain was going to crash over him as his body processed the violent blow to his already-damaged skull.

He was surprised when it hit, overwhelmed him, and then receded slightly - and he didn't pass out. Using his head as a weapon after being knocked unconscious was apparently a really stupid move.

Jughead had made it, though: he'd finally worked his hands free. Gritting his teeth, Jughead leaned forward and began pulling strips of tape off of his poorly secured ankles.

And then he jumped when his hearing exploded painfully with the sound of a gun going off, just outside of the room.

Everyone froze except for Trigger, who first cowered away from the gunshot and then jumped behind Jughead's back and began snarling at his owners.

It wasn't clear who had the gun, and Jughead wasn't sure if he should keep untaping his ankles or not.

When the man with the gun stepped into the doorway and leveled it at Jughead and Trigger, he decided it was 'or not.'

Jughead put his hands in the air.

**00000**

"Muzzle those two." The woman was really angry.

Jughead had been fully untied and then marched into the basement at gunpoint, and Trig was apparently being banished with him. Jughead was now handcuffed to a steel support post with his arms behind his back and his legs re-tied much more effectively. He was sitting in about half an inch of water. This basement was honestly pretty scary-looking even without the current situation. There was what appeared to be a full-on castoff jacuzzi tub of sorts with a jury-rigged garden hose attached to a shower fitting along with the normal tub hookups, complete with a very grimy shower curtain around the whole thing.

This was not how humans should live.

Trigger was on the wooden stairs that descended into the basement. He didn't like water, and the whole basement was slightly flooded.

There were apparently four men in the house, and all had eventually come to help deal with Jughead. Now one pushed past Trigger to go up the stairs.

Jughead had stopped fighting once the handgun was brought in - and someone knew what they were doing, since it hadn't come in close enough range at any point for him to try anything - and Trigger had calmed down quickly in response. The owners of the house didn't seem like they'd forgotten what had happened, though, and Jughead was worried that he was not the only one in danger.

It actually made him a lot calmer to have Trigger to worry about. That was weird, but Jughead was aware that it was an advantage - and so he wouldn't overthink it.

One of the men at the bottom of the stairs caught something when it was thrown down to him. It looked like a small rounded cage, and the man fitted it over Trigger's muzzle and strapped it into place.

"Both of them; come on." The woman had put on boots and was standing in the water in the basement to oversee things. Jughead wondered if everyone else in the basement was actually on drugs, as she had accused them - again - of being when it took a bewilderingly long time for the last two men in the house to respond to the ear-splitting gunshot.

Jughead hoped they were. It seemed like that could only work in his favor.

A plush dog toy was thrown down next, and the man didn't quite catch it. He caught the duct tape when that was thrown.

Jughead felt his chest start to heave.

"Seriously?" One of the men fished the dog toy out of the water. "That's disgusting."

"He's loud. We won't need it long."

Jughead swallowed hard then. Maybe his captors being high was not a good thing after all. "Please, don't hurt me. I- my dad- he's looking for me. You can just let me go, and I'll make sure he doesn't come here. Otherwise, he knows I come here- please-"

"If he knows you come here, then he knows you run all over the woods with the dog." The woman shrugged.

Jughead wasn't sure how to respond to that.

"I figure nobody will miss you for a few hours. And then 'Trigger's out in our yard; we had to put him back on the leash, sure, but we haven't seen a kid.'"

Jughead hoped his dad was smarter than that. He didn't say anything, though, because that sort of information might speed up their timeline for whatever they planned to do with him. He needed to stay alive at least overnight.

Because his dad wouldn't miss him in just a few hours. It was going to be a lot longer than that.

"Open up, kid." A rough hand grasped his face.

Jughead physically gagged when one of the men jammed the dripping dog toy into his mouth and then held his jaw tightly in place. He had his eyes trained on the man holding the duct tape, though, and when the first strip of tape sealed his mouth closed he couldn't suppress a whimper of fear.

Trigger alerted on the stairs with a high-pitched whine.

"Both of you cut it out," The woman looked from Jughead to Trigger and back again.

"We'll dump him tomorrow, right?" The man wrapping duct tape around Jughead's face looked concerned - and distracted. Jughead found himself gasping through his nose and fighting the other man's grip on his jaw as much as he was able to try and keep the tape from blocking his only remaining source of air. When the man with the duct tape finally looked down at him, it seemed like he might even be enjoying threatening Jughead with the poorly aimed strips of tape. Jughead cowered away from the man's amused expression. "That CSI stuff can tell how long he's been dead, and how long he's been somewhere and all."

"Yeah, we'll time it all out. We'll make sure that there aren't any 'defensive wounds' on him either."

It should have been good news. Jughead would make it until tomorrow, thanks to Archie's beloved crime shows. He wouldn't even be beaten for his near escape.

Yet somehow it didn't feel like good news.

**00000**

FP got home around eight am on Sunday morning. He felt miserable in more ways than one, and when he unlocked the front door he was debating whether to sit down with Jughead right away or to ask for a nap before they talked. Everything might go better if he had a little sleep. But they probably needed to get right into it; Jughead had been more distraught than he'd ever seen him.

"Jughead?" FP called up the stairs. The box disaster looked exactly as he'd left things the day before.

So did the breakfast he'd made.

FP walked into the kitchen area now, realizing that nothing had moved. Jughead hadn't cooked, hadn't used any dishes.

His son's phone lit up on the counter.

FP reached for his own phone, suddenly fearful. He unlocked Jughead's cell as he walked up the stairs. When he saw the immense number of unread messages register on the screen he had a sick feeling that he might need some phone numbers. "Jug?"

The house was empty.

After texting Archie, Betty, Veronica, and even Kevin, FP watched the negative responses come in. He called Sheriff Keller then, who promised to alert folks and come over right away - Jughead was at far higher risk than the average teen.

Then FP made one more call.

"How close are you to Riverdale?"

**00000**

FP was dead on his feet, and he knew Fred was right there with him. There was still every likelihood that Jughead had done something stupid in his anger and grief, or perhaps something as innocent as getting lost on a hike.

Nobody was treating this like a drill, though.

Sheriff Keller had called for more officers from neighboring jurisdictions, the FBI were on their way, and they were assembling a search of the area with volunteers from the community.

Keller had looked very concerned when FP explained what the boxes were, and what had played out before he'd left the previous day.

"Do you think there's a chance that there was some form of communication in his belongings, and he's run away to meet someone?" Keller didn't think Brandon was a suspect, but he did suddenly wonder if Jughead had connected a little too well with anyone while undercover.

"No," FP was clear on that, at least. "He was upset that there _wasn't_ a note."

Keller raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"He didn't run away," FP said firmly. "He said he'd stay here overnight."

Fred weighed in now. "I agree. He'd go out, but the way Jughead's been for the last few weeks, if he said he'd be here when FP got back, he'd be here."

"Things can change. But I'll keep that in mind. You know him best," Sheriff Keller spoke mildly and left it at that, but both Fred and FP exchanged a dismayed look. Maybe things _had_ changed. "Has he missed a dose of anything at this point?"

"He's not sick," FP was confused.

"Anti-anxiety medications?" Keller prompted. "Anything at all that he's been prescribed since he got back?"

"Jughead refused to try anything," Fred had been concerned by the decision and done a lot of research at the time. "There isn't a dose to miss."

Keller didn't give them a hint as to whether he thought that was good news or bad news as he absorbed that information.

"Do you think someone could have been watching us, waiting for a chance to catch him alone?" FP finally gave voice to what had been bothering him. It looked like Jughead had disappeared from the house almost immediately after he'd left for the airport.

There were no likely suspects, though.

If any of this had to do with the Serpents, because lord knew they'd been unable to handle their own business without FP taking a central role in managing the gang, there would be a smoking crater where the Wyrm had once stood. However, so far there was absolutely no sign that they were involved. Subtlety was thankfully not their strong suit, so FP was sure that Jughead's disappearance had nothing to do with them.

And he would not be asking them.

FP didn't want to let anyone in the Southside know that Jughead was missing - vulnerable - and that the single barrier to having FP back full-time had conveniently disappeared. Jughead could simply be off the grid but under his own power at this point. Making sure he _stayed_ missing would be far too easy, and the Serpents were not known for their ability to resist temptation.

FP didn't need to turn this search into a race where he wasn't sure of the motives of - or his own control over - some of the players.

If things went much further, though, FP was fully aware that he would need to start cutting deals and making threats to get all the manpower on this search that was available. Maintaining uncontested custody wouldn't mean a thing if Jughead was gone.

"We're going to do our best to find that out." Keller tried to be reassuring, but so far this could be anything. There wasn't a lot he could say to effectively reassure anyone until they learned more.

Archie and Betty had gone to investigate whether Jughead had gone out with Trigger. Maybe the two were together right now, out in the woods somewhere.

FP was waiting for the teens to text an update.

He was waiting for another call, too.

**00000**

"Hi," Archie had knocked on the door of the broken-down house. Trigger wasn't in the yard, and his brow knit. Hopefully this was the explanation they were looking for, but it had been awfully irresponsible of Jughead to leave his phone behind while hiking. "We met about a week ago; I'm Archie Andrews. We're looking for our friend Jughead."

The woman had answered the door and was looking at them blankly.

"He, uh, walks Trigger?" Betty offered. She had been very glad to be given a job, and so far honestly hadn't been able to picture this being anything other than Jughead getting lost on a long walk. Fear kept rising up in her, but as long as she was doing something it wasn't overtaking her. Not yet.

"That's his name?" The lady's eyebrows went up. "Sorry; I haven't seen him."

"Is Trigger around?" Archie gestured to the run. Jughead hadn't actually mentioned the dog in his text, but Archie couldn't think what else he would have been doing. "We thought maybe Jug went for a walk. Maybe he took Trigger without you seeing?"

"The dog's in the house." The lady smiled kindly now. "And your friend didn't come into the house again after we talked; he seems like he's a good boy. I'm sure you'll find him soon enough, but is there anything we can do to help?"

"Um, could you come out to Fox Forest?" Betty asked, biting her lip. "They're organizing a search, and the more people they have… and could you maybe bring Trigger?"

"Of course," The lady nodded. "Trigger's a good idea. He knows your friend pretty well and it might be helpful to get him out of the house for a bit too."

"Thanks," Archie was getting really worried now that they hadn't found Jughead here. This had been their most likely lead.

**00000**

Jughead was shivering hard by the time he heard everyone becoming active in the house above him. The water had wicked through his clothing and the basement was cold since the nights had not yet warmed up to match the daytime signs of summer coming.

He tried to periodically move his bound legs to help blood circulate, but even that was getting more challenging as the hours passed.

Jughead thought he'd heard someone knocking on the front door above, but his cries for help had been so pathetically muted that only Trigger had responded from where he'd draped his long legs on the wooden staircase, watching over Jughead from a dry perch.

Then the basement door opened.

Trigger growled through his muzzle and leapt to his feet. Jughead closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady himself. Maybe it would be help.

Two of the men came down, carrying a large metal dog crate that looked more like a jail cell than the flimsy wire box that the Andrews family had used to train Vegas.

Trigger braved the water then, splashing over to stand behind Jughead. Apparently he didn't like the crate.

Jughead was pretty sure he wasn't going to either, when the men dropped it in front of him and not the dog.

**00000**

"FP, I'm in Riverdale," Brandon finally called back. "What do you know at this point?"

"Less than nothing. He's just gone," FP was wildly frustrated. "They're starting to search the woods now. I'm going out with them." Keller had debated the merits of keeping FP at the house, particularly as the FBI would arrive soon, but they'd come to an agreement involving his cell phone being on and handy at all times when FP had refused to sit and wait.

"I'll take a look around your place. I'll meet you in the woods if we don't turn up anything soon."

"Thank you," FP felt the words sticking in his throat - he was sure that even now Brandon was likely to be at least indirectly responsible for Jughead being missing - and yet he was truly thankful for any assistance. Moreover, if it did turn out that Brandon was anything more than indirectly responsible for Jughead's disappearance, having him out with the search party was probably the safest arrangement possible.

And FP would do whatever it took to make sure there wasn't any danger to his boy.

**00000**

Jughead had been uncuffed from the support post and then, stiff and shivering from his uncomfortable night, he was roughly manhandled into the large dog crate and forced to lie on his stomach. He was left gagged, and his hands were re-cuffed behind his back. Now his belt was joined by a narrow chain that wrapped around his waist and was secured to the tight steel mesh on the bottom of the crate by means of a locking carabiner that dug into his stomach.

His knees were secured to the mesh in much the same way, likely so that he could not generate enough force to attempt to kick his way through the cage. Not that he'd likely get further than hurting himself with that approach. This crate was a serious piece of work.

Then Jughead recalled the lady mentioning avoiding 'defensive wounds.' This wasn't all making the greatest sense yet, but he thought he might be gaining at least some insight into the bizarre approach that the drug dealers thought would make a CSI-proof crime.

The two men called down the other men to help move the heavy crate, with Jughead trapped inside and lashed into place.

The two who came down the stairs now seemed a lot less focused and even began fighting with the first two about the division of labor, but Jughead was no longer hopeful about their ineptitude benefiting him in any way. After nearly dropping the crate once - setting off the first two men cursing and complaining - they managed to set it in the large tub. The crate fit easily, but it was just tall enough that it extended above the tub's rim.

That was when Jughead realized why he'd been secured to the bottom of the cage.

He began shouting - pleading - through his gag then, knowing that Trigger was muzzled and he likely could not be heard outside of the basement, but maybe - maybe - he could cause one of the men to hesitate as they turned on both the hose and the spigot and plugged the tub's drain.

Jughead began shivering even harder as frigid water ran under his stomach and then started to rise. He twisted around, trying desperately to make eye contact as he begged for his life; he'd been told in debriefing that he'd probably been hooded in Toronto in part because it was harder to kill someone when they were looking you in the eye. He hoped that was true.

But the men left him without a second glance, dragging Trigger along with them by his collar.

Jughead was going to have to get through this on his own.

He tried to assess the situation calmly, but this seemed like it was going to be painful - and it was going to be fast. Forcing himself to think - breathe - and looking around himself as much as he was able, Jughead could see one way of surviving, if only for a little while longer. As tremors wracked his severely chilled body, he experimented by rocking his body weight as much as he could in his restrained position - to see if there was any hope of flipping the crate up so he was not on the bottom. If he pulled it off he'd be able to get air even after the tub was full.

The men would come back eventually. Maybe even soon. Jughead couldn't think about that now, though.

Because of the basement floor's slope and how he was secured, he quickly realized that it would be easier to flip the crate forward - which meant he'd have to pull off the move twice. Even as Jughead tried to figure out how he could possibly generate enough force, the water rose to be several inches deep - and climbing.

If he managed to do what he was hoping, Jughead realized, then after flipping the crate the first time he could easily drown before he got it to flip a second time. And the crate would be right up against the end of the tub then, which would make the second maneuver more difficult.

The crate was longer than it was tall, though. Going from that end back down should be the easier step, and everything should just slide into place. He hoped. Jughead tried to psych himself up quickly; he didn't want to let himself get any colder before he attempted it, since he was already having trouble feeling his fingers - and his body was exhausted from shivering through the night.

Jughead braced himself, arching his back for any extra momentum he could generate, and then he threw his body forward as hard as he could and tried to jerk and torque his legs and hips to pull the crate up in the same motion. He was surprised but suddenly a lot more hopeful when the crate actually lurched up and forward, rotating slightly in the process - and then splashed back down into place.

He attempted it a few more times. The water was rising dangerously high already - but it was also lifting some of his body weight as it rose, and Jughead was finding that he had enough play in his torso and legs to fling himself forward more effectively with practice. One wild lurch suddenly went into a teetering motion - and then Jughead fell forward.

That was painful.

With his hands cuffed behind him and his body more or less bolted to what was now the side of the crate, Jughead landed on his face against the steel - and he instinctively exhaled when he impacted. It was only more terrifying to feel that his own body weight prevented him from getting his face above the water to refill his lungs.

With the crate on its end it would of course be easier to tip it back down to its original position, particularly with Jughead secured to what would then (once again) be the bottom, but the water was getting ever deeper and Jughead realized he might not even get one good breath if he tried to reset, get air, and attempt another go. Clenching his eyes shut and ignoring the burning in his lungs, he pushed on in trying to wrench the crate and flip his body forward at the same time. This time he could use his legs much more effectively.

After only two attempts, the crate tipped forward and over - and reached the end of the tub. It rested firmly on the lip.

Jughead was sure that he would drown then.

He was now firmly bolted to what had become the top of the crate, just as he'd been hoping, but the crate was angled steeply over the edge of the tub so that now his legs were above the water and secured there, his waist just out of the water and chained in place, and that meant his face was trapped under the rising water - and with his arms cuffed behind him there was little he could do to change that.

Jughead bucked inside the leaning crate, hoping desperately to dislodge it into sliding back into the tub and letting him get his face above the water, but found that he couldn't do much from this position.

Then the edge of the crate resting on the bottom of the tub slipped.

Jughead felt it slowly squeegee across the tub's grimy surface and he continued to thrash, inching it along, until the crate fell heavily back into the tub - upside down from the position he'd begun in.

It was a much closer call than he wanted to think about.

When the crate finally fell into place, Jughead was able to get his face above the water. He snorted once to clear his nose of water and hungrily pulled in air. The chain had slipped during the process of flipping the crate and was now suspending him painfully by the hips. His knees being secured to the top of the crate was a problem now too, because that meant his legs could not serve as a counterbalancing weight that let him rest with his head above the water.

It would be okay, though. It had to be. He'd made it this far.

Jughead could do an awkward crunch to raise his face above the water - and he had been right that it would continue to be possible even after the water reached the top of the tub. The position was painful, though, and holding it for any length of time was exhausting. So Jughead dropped his head and shoulders back underwater for as long as he could, to rest between gasping breaths.

He figured he should be proud of what he'd managed.

He'd been trained for this. Jughead could fight harder and stay alive for longer than anyone would expect just from looking at him, and he was entirely confident that he could buy himself precious time.

There was only one problem:

Brand wasn't coming for him this time.

Jughead could almost conjure the feeling he'd had with Brand that everything would be all right - that someone would always rescue him and the bad guys would never get away with this - and suddenly he longed for that innocence. Even false assurances meant comfort; comfort meant staving off the feelings of horrible realization and bone-deep terror.

But he had been trained for this, and so he was no longer naive. Jughead knew that without Brand, buying time only meant delaying - prolonging - the inevitable. And he was scared.

Jughead really wished he'd thought all of this through before he'd gotten himself into this mess.

**00000**

Betty had joined the search and walked out into the woods with the other volunteers. She hated the time this gave her to think, though, and when one of the people from Trigger's house seemed to get fed up with the dog, who was definitely acting oddly, she offered to take him and see where he'd lead her in the woods.

The man had given her an odd stare, but willingly handed her the leash. Betty wasn't sure she'd have offered if Trigger hadn't been muzzled. Or maybe she would have, under the circumstances - it seemed like a dog might have a better sense of how to locate Jughead. She'd try just about anything if it might help.

About five minutes later, Sheriff Keller approached her.

"Betty, that dog can't be around our canine units. He's got too many issues, and while I appreciate the muzzle - and the thought - would you mind taking him home?"

Betty was disappointed and hated to leave the search, even for a little while. However, she recognized that someone had to deal with the dog and if she were that person then someone else would be freed up to continue the search.

This was getting so real.

Betty pulled on Trigger's leash and the dog thankfully seemed to recognize the way home and bounded along with her.

**00000**

**Whew! Also: 10/10 will rewrite if this chapter has major issues (I'm officially unable to tell anymore). I thought about splitting it in half to tackle it in stages, since it's a long one, but I got greedy and wanted it all together... so... it's my own fault if another pass or three would have made it more readable. And seriously: the humane management of cliffhangers is important! **

**Thanks in advance for any and all reviews! The collision course is firmly set; I'll be writing over here and enjoying hearing that you're alive, well, and still reading. :)**

**I hope your week is off to a great start! **

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	13. Chapter 13

**I know. It's horrifying. But here's another chapter. :-D**

**Also: thanks for the review, Living Lucid Dream! You are holding down the fort on those, and it's saving my sanity and keeping me focused as we (ruh-roh) get further into the story. It was so encouraging to hear that Jug's growth makes sense, and that Trigger is getting (richly deserved) love. Best boy = totally confirmed. :-D The Serpents don't _entirely_ need an overhaul for this story, but I wanted them to either be absent or "legitimately threatening," so yay for success on the latter! :) And I was (sadly?) not kidding about being a wee bit in love with FP's arc and interplay with Brand. FP's 100% driving that, and "worst position a parent can ever be in" is actually a really good summary of his arc through all three stories. Sorry for the speechlessness and horror, BTW. Or you're welcome. One or the other. :-D **

**Okay, I'm done. ;)**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Brand was at a loss. Jones wasn't liable to run away. Not now. And nobody with a serious axe to grind - someone connected to the Toronto 'bust' - would go near him with Rose in the picture.

It could only be some nut, like the credible threat guy had been, or some criminal in such sorry shape and so lost to communication that they did not know better than to mess with an internationally-famous teen.

You'd really think one of those deterrents would have worked.

Brand had begun worrying about the Carters, though. With Daniel in prison he'd been hearing rumblings about Bryn becoming increasingly frantic.

At this point he might even need to consider Russell. The agent loved his job more than anything else, more even than the ethics that supposedly went along with it, but irrational anger had led more than one federal agent into treacherous waters before. There were rumors that he was on thin ice with the FBI these days, and if he did lose his job then Brand would put odds on his coming for blood.

Russell hadn't lost the job yet, though. Maybe he felt above the law? He might well attempt to take on Jones again, and Brand still deeply resented what had occurred in the portions of debriefing that Russell had been a part of. That had clearly led to many of the difficulties the kid had been having since his reunion with family and friends.

Which was the purpose Brand had _hoped_ would bring him here - bucking up his godson and getting him back on track. Jones needed a shot in the arm to counteract the scare tactics from the FBI, and Brand sensed that he needed it before he did something that attracted a little too much of Rose's attention.

Such as inspiring this manhunt, just for instance.

All Brand had was useless speculation, though, since it depended on someone he didn't know doing something he didn't think would be useful to them unless they had actually snapped. Nothing about that was predictable or intelligible enough to get him to Jones, let alone in time if they had any ideas about hurting - killing - him in retaliation for his role in their lives' respective difficulties.

He needed a faster way of figuring this out.

Brandon was walking down the street near Jones' new home. It was a nice area, but maybe he'd been grabbed in the neighborhood. Brand was grasping at straws, particularly considering the amount of fight that the kid had in him, but there wasn't much else for it until inspiration struck.

Then Brand spotted a familiar blonde ponytail.

"Betty!" Brand waved. The teenage girl might have been a motive for Jones to sneak out - but in this moment Brand figured he could cross that theory off the list as well. She was being pulled along by a half-crazed German Shepherd that wasn't quite full-grown - an unlikely activity if she had signed on with a disappearing act - and she looked far too distraught to simply be covering for her boyfriend.

Betty took one look at Brand and pulled out her phone.

"I'm supposed to be here," Brand raised a hand placatingly. "Text FP if you don't believe me."

Betty was apparently a suspicious person these days; she sent a text to someone (presumably to FP, but Brand was realizing it was unlikely she had his number), and then waited in silence for the reply that came swiftly.

"Oka-ay," Betty was still eyeing Brand unhappily, but didn't object when he fell into step beside her. As sources of information went, she might be a lot more valuable than she knew.

"When did you last hear from Jones?" Brand tried not to demand the information, and took a conversational tone. He'd always liked Betty, in spite of having worked - at least somewhat - at cross purposes with her the previous fall.

"That is none of your business," Betty didn't even look at him.

"Whose dog is this?" It was clearly not hers. Unless she abused it regularly.

"He belongs to a family in town, but Jughead walks him a lot. I'm bringing him home so he doesn't interfere with the police dogs," Betty seemed more willing to share this information.

Jones was walking an attack dog, huh?

Brand was suddenly getting a mental picture of someone who might be desperate enough to try something, disconnected enough not to realize it was a terrible idea to target this particular teenager, and yet integrated enough into Jones' life to be at ground zero when the kid hit the self-destruct button.

Brand could also picture Jones doing something stupid like instigate conflict over a dog. That sounded just like him, particularly on the heels of his stuff showing up without so much as a post-it from Brand.

It had been a pain following Rose's orders for how to run interactions (or more properly, a total lack thereof) with Jones, and Brand was very glad they'd renegotiated that firmly over the past week.

He really hoped that didn't turn out to be for nothing.

"Where do they live? Close to here, or should I get my car?"

"I'm not getting into a car with you," Betty said primly. "...No offense."

"Of course - none taken," Brand really did like her. Jones had good taste. "I'll just walk with you and..."

"Trigger."

"Trigger," Brand smirked. Jones had better be alive so he could tease him about this.

They walked a few blocks further, and there was the sorriest house Brand had seen in Riverdale.

Bingo.

Betty walked toward the dog run.

"No; bring the dog. We're going in." Brand stopped for a moment and reconsidered. "Actually, give _me_ the dog. _I'm_ going in. I'm not explaining this to Jones later if you wind up in the middle of anything."

"Well, _I'm_ not waiting here if you have an idea for finding Jug," Betty handed Brand the leash but folded her arms. "What are you planning to do?"

Brand didn't have time for this. He opened his jacket to reveal his shoulder holster. That should get rid of her.

"Clearly I can come. You're armed," Betty didn't seem like she actually thought the gun was an encouraging revelation, but she wasn't budging on this either.

There was definitely no time for this.

"Fine, but stay back." Brand narrowed his eyes at her. He'd just have to make something up when Jones asked why she was dead.

They approached the house warily, Brand watching for any movement and Betty watching Brand.

The door wasn't even locked.

The dog was starting to go even more nuts, but it seemed like nobody was home.

"They're all out looking for Jughead," Betty's arms were crossed again.

"Stay here while I clear the house. Down behind that cabinet would be good," Brand pointed. When Betty made no move to comply, Brand sighed. "Do me a favor and tell him I told you to do that, okay?"

"Oh, _absolutely_," Betty's tone was sarcastic and her hip was jutting out as she watched him impatiently.

"I'm letting the dog loose now, so stay back," Brand didn't miss the fear that flashed through Betty's expression as he removed the dog's muzzle and unclipped the leash, but that was just smart. This dog was trouble, and was losing it even as they watched.

Trigger apparently really, really wanted to go into the basement.

Brand began taking the wooden steps two at a time, but stopped halfway down to turn and start pushing Betty back up the stairs.

"You can't see this. Go back." Brand commanded. He softened slightly, seeing the terrible hope in her eyes and knowing it was all about to go to hell. "Trust me. Do not come down until I call you."

Brand turned then to go back down the stairs. He had to retrieve a body.

When the dog leapt into his way, Brand seriously considered shooting it.

But then he was startled by a harsh, gasping sound - Jones had levered his torso up just far enough to take one deep breath, and was apparently not drowned in the world's scariest dog kennel after all.

"Oh my God, kid," Brand ran to the tub. The thick bars on the cage were lined with a steel mesh that was too tight for him to be able to reach in and hold Jones above the water.

Then he realized he was thinking about this the wrong way. He jumped into the overflowing tub of icy water and braced his feet to hoist the heavy cage up. Brand wasn't quite in position when he heaved it up and back against the edge of the tub, but he had to do something - and he managed to get it up far enough that the kid's face was above the surface of the water.

It was obvious when Jones realized he was no longer alone.

Brand's eyes locked with his over the water, and he could see in his expression the raw determination that had kept him alive in this deathtrap for who knows how long - and also that it was about to falter now that Brand was here and could take over for him.

Brand had really missed the kid.

His awkward grip on the kennel began to slip. The tub was disgustingly slick where it was not deeply gouged, and the water was brutally cold; Jones was visibly shivering.

Brand hated to do it, but he couldn't get the kennel all the way out of the tub without repositioning.

"Deep breath, Jones." Brand kept his own expression steady when he saw his eyes fill with renewed fear. Brand sincerely hoped the kid believed he could get him out of this, but now was not the time for reassurances. "On three. One… two… three."

Brand let the kennel fall back into the water, wincing when he saw the drop whiplash Jones' spine, and he jumped to brace himself into a better position to heft it out.

He had just begun lifting the cage a second time when another set of hands began helping him.

"I told you… stay upstairs," Brand grunted.

Betty's eyes were huge. She was strong, though, and Brand did not regret having the help.

They got the kennel over the side of the tub, and then lowered it onto the flooded basement floor. The dog began dancing in circles now, and Brand was glad to see that it had abruptly lost all signs of aggression; it jumped on top of the crate, snuffling happily at Jones and trying to lick through the mesh. That seemed like as good a place as any for keeping it more or less out of the way. Brand pulled out his heavy-duty pocketknife and crouched next to the kennel.

Then the dog flattened its ears, readied its posture, and began growling and snapping at him like it meant business.

Brand was officially done with the monster.

"Tie the dog outside. I know the muzzle's off, but you might just have to get bitten. Deal with it. Then find blankets, anything warm, and this time really don't come down until I call you," Brand ordered. He made firm eye contact with Betty now. "I don't want to waste time arguing."

Betty didn't hesitate. She grabbed the dog by the collar and hauled it off of the crate and toward the stairs. It began barking loudly - but was entirely focused on Brand and not yet on the person dragging him.

Brandon started working to open the kennel. His pocketknife would unscrew portions easily - and that way he could ignore the lock and bypass trying to work with the smaller door.

The kid was upside down in the crate and hanging awkwardly. He was dripping and shivering, and he was clearly too exhausted to attempt straightening his back or lifting his head now that his survival did not depend on it - now that he didn't have the water to help lift him - or maybe just now that his godfather had whiplashed his spine like an idiot - but it seemed like a good sign that he was watching Brand closely; his eyes were tracking every move he made.

"Jones, you commando, what were you doing in a place like this? Without any backup? You couldn't give me just one more week to get clearance to come down here?" Brand began rambling as he worked on the crate, making eye contact from time to time to confirm that his godson was still alert and focused on him.

The entire end of the cage fell open once he'd detached enough hardware.

"Okay, I've got you," Brand crawled partway in with Jones and unscrewed the carabiners securing his hips and legs to the kennel, lifting them free like hooks. Brand felt it in his own spine when the kid gave a muffled moan at the sensation of his back finally being supported when he was lowered to the bottom of the cage. "This doesn't make much sense, kid, and you'll be sore tomorrow, but it's real lucky that they clamped you to the top and not-,"

Brand stopped talking. Remembered the gouging in the tub.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

Jones was starting to seem less responsive as he continued to work on freeing him, and Brand's mind raced as he tried to figure out what else he should be worrying about - watching for - now that he'd realized he wasn't entirely sure what his godson had needed to do to stay alive. He might be a lot more than just sore.

Brand maneuvered them both out of the kennel so that he could get the handcuffs off, and patted the kid's face less than gently as he did so. His eyes had been starting to close, but they opened again at that and Brand smirked when he glared up at him. "Stay awake, kid. Eyes on me. In a minute you can bite the hand that's untying you, but only if you stay with me."

Brand turned toward the staircase to yell. "Blondie! Blankets! You need to get us a car, too. He might be dry drowning."

Betty threw several disgusting blankets down to the wooden landing just above the water in the basement. Good call. The door slammed upstairs.

Brand liked a woman of action.

"She's going to get you out of here," Brand started talking again to try and focus Jones' attention on him while he used his knife's implements to pick the cuffs. "She'll get us to the hospital and we'll get you warm again. We'll check your lungs."

Once Jones was fully freed, his arms fell weakly to the floor. Brand began peeling the layers of duct tape off of the kid's face. He suddenly wondered if he should have done that first, to get him more oxygen - but it was too late to worry about that now.

"You must have loved this. I'm surprised any of them lived to tell the tale. They're in your search party right now, which is some kind of twisted. You know, I'm almost hoping they come back."

Brand reflected on that for a moment as he reached the bottom layer of tape and slowed down to work it away from Jones' skin. "Not while you're dying from hypothermia. But you know what I mean."

There was a filthy dog's chew toy in Jones' mouth.

"Okay, even with you dying on the floor I'd probably take just a _little_ time to put a couple of bullets in them," Brand amended as he worked it out of the kid's mouth and flung it angrily. "Just being straight with you, killer."

Brand started pulling clothing off of Jones now, and lifted his increasingly limp body off of the wet floor. The tub was still overflowing behind them. "Hey, we've got blankets, kid. Disgusting blankets that your dog wouldn't even use. Just what the doctor ordered."

Brand gently set Jones onto the dry landing and stripped off his own jacket and shirt, jamming his gun into his waistband before pulling Jones' chest against his own skin. Brand wrapped blankets around them both and then began rubbing his hands briskly up and down the kid's back.

"You are cold." He was scary cold. "Come on, take my heat. She's coming back for us and we'll get you to the hospital."

Jones had passed out.

"Aha," Brand ran one hand up to his skull and found a large lump. "Let's blame this for some of the issues. You're not dying. You just have a concussion, and your godfather went and dropped you in a tub. But you're safe now and you're going to be just fine."

Brand knew he might well be dead before Betty got back. This was bad.

"Your dad called me. You should know that. And I almost shot your dog. I'm at least a little sorry about that, but he's a pain. Reminds me of you, actually."

The door banged open again.

"Do I need to put bullets in you, or do you have a car?" Brand rumbled threateningly. God help anyone who lived here making the grave mistake of coming down those stairs.

"I have a car. Can I come down?" Betty was out of breath.

"We're coming up." Brand hefted Jones into his arms as he stood, and started up the stairs. "He's still alive, but no promises about five minutes from now. I'll need to be in the back seat in case he stops breathing. Can you work with that?"

"I'll drive fast." Betty nodded, running ahead to the car while Brand walked. He continued to cradle Jones as close to his chest as he could manage, sharing as much heat as possible.

He was still breathing. It could have been a miracle, but Brand had seen the gouging in that tub. A true miracle shouldn't require that of a human.

When Brand climbed into the back seat of the car, Betty's eyes were visible in the rearview mirror.

"We're eye candy, I know," Brand took a chance with Betty while he got them settled on the seat, hoping he could do something - anything - to steady her nerves for the drive, "but he's only in boxers under these blankets and he might be dying. I think we both know which of those he's going to ask about first if he makes it. Eyes front."

Betty nodded once, firmly, and floored it.

**00000**

**A one-scene chapter! But hey, it's Brand's triumphal reentry to the plot - we can't look away, right? ;) I hope you enjoyed, I hope you like cliffhangers (after AWP, who doesn't?), and I hope you'll leave a review. :)**

**-Button**


	14. Chapter 14

**World record (for me) chapter length! You have been warned. :-D**

**Thank you so much for the reviews on the previous chapter - it was really nice to hear from you, Guest, and know you're still reading when you are able - and particularly that you are enjoying. Thank you for the compliments (very much!) and you are so very welcome. I was particularly happy to hear that you are enjoying the development of Brand and Jughead's relationship. I am far too excited for Brand and FP to interact more, too! Your lineup of the current issues crowding in the wings is a wonderful summary of what I'm seeing on the horizon as well... but then I never know what's going to happen next. Fred threw everything sideways last story, and in this one... well, stuff happened. **

**Living Lucid Dream, thank you for the lovely review also! I think everyone's visceral response to Brand is going to be tricky, yeah - and probably a little bit 'lizard brain' just because of how he can be. I'm glad you enjoyed that in Betty, who seems VERY able to just bulldoze her lizard brain (on the show as well as in this story) through sheer force of will. And yeah, Brand's maybe going to have to face facts about his 'good side' (less bad side? Your word 'decent' might be the best one) as he becomes less criminal by necessity. Maybe. I'm certainly interested in finding out!**

**Okay, all the anticipation is getting to me, wondering what you'll think of this chapter, so...**

**Enjoy!**

**-Button**

**00000**

Sheriff Keller was surprised when Fred handed him FP's phone.

"It's Betty," Fred explained quickly, resisting the urge to just leave - get Archie - and let Tom get up to speed on the situation on his own. "Apparently she found Jughead, and she's got information - she's saying that you need to arrest some of the search party."

Keller stared at Fred in disbelief. "She… _what_?"

"I'm just telling you what she said," Fred shrugged. He was already walking away. "FP's on his way to the hospital; that's his phone, so you can't get him directly. I'll be there with my phone if you need anything."

"Betty?" Keller answered the phone now and despite his shock he was not entirely surprised to hear the jumbled start of an account that was likely to be useless to him. "Hang on. I need you to slow down, start from the beginning, and you need to be very clear about what you _know_ \- and what you only _think_ you know. Now, what happened?"

**00000**

FP thought he'd never get to the hospital room. Apparently "Jonas' father" was already there, and it was _confusing_ in some way to the medical personnel that another one of those had shown up and was calling the first an impostor.

He'd thought that would be clear enough when he said it the first time.

Whatever. FP wasn't messing around, and they'd all gotten out of his way when he'd thrown his useless wallet onto the desk - that name change was a gift that just kept on giving - and began yelling that they'd left his son alone with a kidnapper. Didn't _anyone_ watch the news?

That might require some explaining later.

FP rounded the corner and finally, _finally_ reached the hospital room - and even so he made it before security got there.

Okay, maybe that explaining would have to happen sooner rather than later.

Jughead was apparently unconscious, though, and FP had visions of an empty hospital room and his boy, helpless and injured, spirited away by Brandon. This time for good.

A female nurse - one who apparently _did _watch the news - was sprinting along behind FP and still trying to stop him so that she could give him an update. And keep him away from Brandon.

FP was having none of it: until he got to the room, he could not confirm that Jughead was there. Safe. All he could learn was that "Jonas" was not going to die - his head injury was not life-threatening - he had not experienced secondary drowning, whatever that was, and he would gradually recover from his moderate hypothermia.

Nobody could tell him what had happened.

Except maybe the man sitting next to his son's hospital bed, wearing a blue scrub shirt.

Brandon was holding one of Jughead's hands in both of his own, rubbing it as if to warm it, as if he _belonged_ there, and talking quietly to FP's unconscious son.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" FP was angry - beyond angry -, but he turned away from Brandon the moment he'd confirmed that there was no immediate threat from him. Instead FP took Jughead's limp hand away from him - and found that it was shockingly cold. He reflexively closed his other hand over it as well, and was irritated to realize he was mimicking Brandon's rubbing motion, an action which might in some way tacitly suggest that _anything_ about him being here alone with Jughead, literally _in loco parentis_, was okay.

FP scanned what he could see of his son's head for the injury he'd been told was there. It wasn't obvious through Jughead's wet tangle of hair, and FP suddenly wondered if there had been a mistake - a different patient - and Jughead was still in danger of dying. He instinctively slipped his fingers to Jughead's wrist to feel his pulse, and when it was there - and reassuringly steady - FP suddenly felt like he could breathe deeply again. Finally.

"He said-" the nurse wheezed "-that they were father and son. They have the same last name."

Brandon shrugged. "I panicked. I texted you."

The great Brandon Davies had panicked? FP realized with a sinking heart that this did not bode well for the story he was about to hear, and his expression closed off. He fired off his questions quickly: "What happened? Are you sure he's going to be okay? He was in that drug house? They were all with the search party."

The nurse narrowed her eyes at them both now. This was not looking or sounding like anything that FP had claimed was going on.

"Yeah, you can get rid of security. Thanks." FP dismissed the nurse without taking his eyes off of Brandon.

The nurse glared daggers at FP as she left the room to intercept security and try to get to the bottom of this.

"He's going to be fine. And that search party's the only reason he's alive," Brand was distracted by the comment about security and realized a moment too late that he should really explain before saying things like that. "They were drowning him. I don't know why. I do know they put some effort into it, though, and he pretty nearly defied physics to stay alive."

"What _happened_?" FP was losing patience. Or maybe it was long since gone. He hadn't killed Brandon yet, though, so he must still have some left. They'd see how long that lasted.

"Ever seen a real serious dog kennel, like one that belongs in a zoo but 'big men' buy 'em for their vanity project attack dogs? They strapped him down in one of those and threw him into a tub to die." Brand figured the next part was what they'd need to focus on once Jones had woken up. "I think he somehow flipped the cage to buy himself some time, and then he fought his heart out until I got there." Brand described what he'd observed in the basement and what he'd done. "If anyone had stuck around to see the job done-," Brand cut himself off. He waited for FP to formulate a response.

FP closed his eyes against the information and tried to relax his grip before he hurt Jughead's hand.

The silence lengthened before FP finally spoke, quietly and seriously, asking the question that had been bothering him ever since debriefing had ended. "Did you just never turn your back, not once, for months?"

"I always regretted it when I did," Brand smirked darkly. "Don't be too hard on him, though. Jones-" Brand realized that might get confusing fast "-doesn't usually have to learn the same lesson more than twice."

FP figured he must be in shock when he actually barked out a short laugh at that, and at the same time he hoped that would put a stop to the tears forming in his eyes. He sobered quickly, and figured he might as well get this part over with: "Thank you, Brandon. For bringing my boy back to me."

"I have my reasons," Brandon cocked his head to one side and reached a hand toward Jughead's hair.

"You've made that abundantly clear," FP's expression was grim then. Brandon dropped his hand without touching Jughead.

"You should know that I'm planning to stay in town until he's back in one piece," Brandon seemed almost apologetic now, which irked FP even more. "Maybe until the interview, depending on when we schedule that. I told him you called me, so you might have some questions to answer. I also told him I nearly shot his dog, so he may not be interested in seeing me for a while if he does remember any of that."

FP tried to ignore the implications of his words and manner: that Brandon felt he had so much power here that he could act apologetic even while exercising it; that Jughead would _of course_ want to see Brandon right away if he hadn't threatened Trigger, and that even the worst case scenario was _maybe_ "a while" before Jughead gave in and couldn't bear to be separated from him any longer.

FP really needed to ignore all of that. Because it was possible that Brandon was right on all counts.

And, honestly, this was quite likely the most conciliatory Brandon was capable of being. FP knew his type all too well, and he needed to figure out how not to murder him where he stood, because Jughead was getting his closure with Brandon. Whether Davies wanted it or not.

Also... come to think of it, there _was_ actually some common ground here.

"You had a chance to shoot that dog and you didn't take it?" FP was increasingly certain that the dog had nearly meant the death of his son and suddenly had a lot less patience for it.

Brand laughed shortly now. "I'm with you on that. But the dog did lead us to him. Betty was a full-on warrior, too; he's gonna want to see her."

"Okay," FP nodded, accepting that this was the story - and the situation - he had until Jughead woke up and filled in the gaps for everyone. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. "Okay. He's going to wake up."

"Probably soon," Brandon offered. "I'm here for the duration, but I can wait somewhere else until he's awake."

"No." FP reached over Jughead and grabbed a handful of sheet on the far side of the bed. "Help me out here. Pull the sheet, not him."

Brand was clearly confused, but he stood up and reached to help. Which was when FP saw that he was packing heat. In the hospital. In his _waistband_.

FP had the distinct feeling that he'd be ignoring quite a bit between now and whenever Brandon Davies went back to Canada.

Once Jughead had been smoothly slid to one side of the narrow hospital bed, FP kicked off his boots and climbed onto the mattress next to him.

Brandon's eyes widened and he reached to steady FP and keep him from jostling Jughead's head or neck. "Uh - be careful about his back and neck. That was me."

FP's expression was incredulous as he froze in place and then eased slightly away from his son on the bed. "And saying something _before _I moved him-,"

"Hey, you're the one-"

Brandon wisely stopped speaking when FP's expression changed to something approaching deadly calm; the older man suddenly looked predatory, and the expectant silence that followed felt like nothing short of an invitation for Brandon to dig his own grave.

The silence lengthened.

FP finally spoke: "You do _not_ want to raise the subject of blame with me. Not now; not ever."

Brandon thought about that. The man had a point. But still. "It was an _accident_. I was saving his life, remember? It's not like his neck's broken; he'll be able to walk just fine. It just won't feel great for a while."

FP sighed in frustration, but also resignation as he laid back cautiously. He pointed at the television. "I'm gonna need to you flip channels, Brandon. No news."

Brandon raised his eyebrows. "Ye-eah, that's a no. I'll go get us some coffee."

"You'll be here when he wakes up," FP corrected in a tone that suggested he'd be thrilled to be given any excuse to enforce his words. "Sit down."

Brandon glowered now, but he grabbed the remote and flipped it over to FP.

They got comfortable and began to wait.

**00000**

Fred made it to the hospital with Archie, and they joined Betty in the waiting area. She had finished making phone calls for the time being and Veronica had left the search party to get coffee and food from Pop's before she would join them as well.

Betty looked calm and in charge of the situation when they first walked in, but almost immediately she threw herself into Archie's arms and let her tears fall for the first time since it had all happened. "It was _horrible_, Archie. Brand thought he was dead, and he told me not to come downstairs. Then I heard him yelling - so I ran down to help, and he seemed to be all right - and then we thought he was _dying _and we wouldn't get him here in time. There wasn't even time for an ambulance by the time Brand realized Jughead wasn't okay-,"

Archie's arms had automatically closed around Betty and he looked at his dad over her shoulder with a stricken expression. "But he's going to be fine, right?" That was most of what Archie had been told, since his dad had gotten a fuller update only after Jughead had been admitted and examined.

"Oh! You didn't - yes, he'll be okay - Brand texted me that he's going to be fine. He's probably going to wake up soon," Betty seemed to regain her composure while sharing that information, but then her expression fell again. "He came so close to drowning, Archie. He could have drowned right in front of us. He would have died all alone in that basement if Brandon hadn't-,"

Betty let go of Archie and sank into a chair. "I just... I can't believe we could get Jug back just to lose him like that."

"But we didn't," Fred interjected now, his tone sympathetic as he carefully tried to hide his own shock at how bad this was sounding. "You looked for him, you found him, and he's going to be okay."

"I guess so-," Betty wiped away her tears now. "But they wouldn't let me go in there and see him. See that he's okay. He's all alone with Brand, and he will be when he wakes up. I wanted him to know that we're here for him too."

"You helped him, though, right?" Archie asked, his voice sounding calm even though he still had a shell-shocked expression. "I think it will keep. Jug's good like that - and I bet he's just really glad you were there." Archie thought for a few moments. "You know what, maybe we can even do something for him while we wait."

Fred was impressed; this was a smart tack to take.

"Yeah?" Betty looked interested in that idea even as she wiped away another tear. "Like what?"

"Let's wait for Ronnie to get here," Archie sat down next to Betty, "but I might have an idea."

Fred sat with them for a few minutes before he casually excused himself to visit the restroom. He locked the door to the single-stall room, and then he sank back against the wall and finally allowed himself to really feel the adrenaline and fear that had been spiking for him all morning - and suddenly come to a head when he heard Betty's brief, disjointed account.

Almost immediately Fred's chest was heaving and he was gasping for air as he tried to get his mind to make some kind of sense of what had happened.

Archie had walked right up to that house more than once, including this morning when the occupants had been panicked, possibly under the influence of substances, and obviously willing to kill.

Betty had been endangered as well, and she had witnessed at least a portion of her boyfriend's near-drowning. Which might even have been a full drowning, based on Betty's description.

Jughead had nearly been murdered, and not just detained by drug dealers who were buying time to get out of town, which was what Fred had assumed based on the initial information he'd been given.

Yes; they'd made it, and that was the important thing. He knew that. But it was only by the skin of their teeth.

Fred realized that he was shivering. It felt like he was in shock.

The teens were so much younger. It truly seemed like they might be able to start bouncing back with nothing more than a plan. All they needed was something to do and a project to focus on.

Fred was going to need a little more time.

**00000**

Jughead woke up wondering if he'd just had a bad dream.

He'd certainly had enough of those.

But when he opened his eyes, he was in the hospital. And everything hurt. And he was _cold_.

"Brand?" His godfather was sitting right next to his bed. Jughead scanned the room quickly - okay, he was still in Riverdale; nothing too crazy had happened while he was out - and then he reached toward Brand, wincing when his neck came alive with pain. "You came. You're here."

"Hey, kid," Brandon grabbed Jughead's hand and leaned over to very gently tousle his hair. "Don't move; you'll hurt yourself. And of course I came. You should know by now that I'd never miss a chance to have you owe me big time."

Jughead's other hand groped toward the warmth he could feel next to him in the bed. Turning his head that far felt like a very bad idea.

"I'm right here," FP's voice was thick with emotion as he took Jughead's hand in his own. He sat up so that he was in Jughead's field of vision. "You're okay, Jughead. You're going to be okay."

"Where's Trigger? Is he okay too?"

FP and Brandon sighed in unison - and shot each other a startled glance.

"Your attack dog's fine," Brand shook off the creepy mind meld with FP and gave Jughead a look. "We worry about the humans first, kid. _And_ second, for that matter. Is that monster the reason you were in that kennel?"

"I-," Jughead hesitated.

"It's okay if you need a few minutes. Take your time," FP gave Brandon a warning look to keep him from pushing immediately for information. "We know you're exhausted. We're just gonna need to know a little more in case there's anyone else Sheriff Keller should be arresting right now. He's already picked everyone up from that drug house."

"No - that's all of them - and I can tell you what happened. It's just…" Jughead hesitated again, this time making a face. "It's kind of embarrassing."

That was not what they'd expected him to say.

**00000**

There was a minor stir during visiting hours when Archie arrived.

They'd thought through their plan, though, and worked it all out with some misdirection from Betty and Veronica that was keeping both Fred and Mary Andrews occupied for the moment. So far everything was going exactly as they'd hoped.

In fact, Archie made it all the way to the door of Jughead's room before there was a serious hiccup: Brandon met him at the doorway.

"Andrews," Brand's eyebrows drew together. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You know what, Brandon," Archie made a split-second decision that the best defense was the offense he'd dearly wanted to make since the previous fall, "the last time I saw you was through the window of Jughead's room. When, you might recall, you were _beating him up_. So I _might_ not be the person you want to be talking to right now."

"Nice try, but that's not going to get you into the room," Brand smirked as he leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms. "Not with that monster."

Archie tried to look innocent. With Betty's help and the strategic use of all the bacon from the Coopers' fridge, they'd gotten Trigger back into his muzzle - and also into the joke gift that Archie had bought for Jughead shortly after he'd begun walking Trig: an emotional support dog vest.

"Jughead's awake, right? I thought he'd like-,"

Trigger had immediately recognized Brand and issued a low growl, but must have finally caught Jughead's scent over the hospital smells: he abruptly stopped rumbling and gave a tentative bark.

"Trigger?" Jughead's voice reached the hallway and suddenly the German Shepherd was clawing toward the room, leaving deep scratches on the floor in his wake.

"_Release the hounds_," Brand quipped. "See why this wasn't a good idea?" He stepped out of the doorway and reached for Trigger's leash.

Archie closed his eyes for just a moment to keep his courage from failing over his next move: he swiftly unclipped the lead just as Brand grasped it.

Trigger launched.

Jughead's surprised laughter was almost as loud as FP's yelp when Trigger landed on him in an effort not to trample Jughead.

FP scrambled off of the bed then. Seeing that the dog was quickly settling in to lie next to Jughead, a position that likely would not cause any injury, FP merely stepped back into his discarded boots and made his way to the doorway to join Brand. "It looks like we've been replaced, at least for a couple of minutes. How do you feel about getting us some coffee now?"

"You really think that's wise?" Brand quirked his eyebrows toward Jughead, who was wincing in pain from his own movements, but nevertheless prying the muzzle off of a delighted Trigger.

Archie folded his arms, still glaring at Brandon. "Why don't you both go; take a break. I'll keep an eye on things here."

FP sized Archie up. "Don't let Keller in here until we're back. Don't let any law enforcement in."

"You got it," Archie nodded firmly. "I'm pretty sure nobody's getting past Trigger, but I'll be here too, just in case."

"Good," FP clapped a hand on Archie's shoulder as he walked past. "Ten minutes."

Brand met Archie's glare with an even stare as he moved to follow FP. He was pretty sure he'd successfully bonded with Betty over not letting Jones die, but Archie apparently wanted more from him. Brand would keep an eye on that, but he suspected Archie might never get the closure he wanted.

That could end up being miserable for him, but if he was smart he'd learn a lesson from the experience.

**00000**

"You got him in! Yay!" Veronica came around the corner, Betty right on her heels.

"I got rid of both of them, too," Archie gestured down the hall. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull that off. Come on, we've got about ten minutes."

They hurried into the hospital room.

"You-," Jughead was momentarily speechless. "You're all here."

Archie kicked the doorstop up and the room's door swung shut. "Yep. So, ten minutes or less: what happened? Why is _Brandon _here?"

"Uh, Archie," Veronica nudged her boyfriend. "Five minutes or less."

Archie glanced over at Betty. "Oh. Yeah, five minutes."

"They were hurting Trigger," Jughead figured this was the best way to tell the story. "I tried to be a hero, and I pulled a boner move because I didn't know they were drug dealers. Trig attacked one of them when he grabbed me, though, and I nearly got away. Right, Trig?"

Jughead was still rubbing Trigger, even though his arm was sore and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. The dog was energetically shifting his position on the bed so that he could be patted from different angles.

"Then they muzzled him, and without my secret weapon - I had to work really hard until Betty got there with Brand. My dad actually called him, which is kind of insane, so that there would be more people looking for me."

"Good story," Veronica's words were brave, but her eyes had filled with tears.

"Hey, come here; I'm fine," Jughead tried very hard not to wince as he reached out to hug Veronica and she stepped over to the bed and leaned into him briefly - which worked well, because he was finding that he was almost entirely unable to lift his neck up from the pillow. "I was stupid, but I'm lucky. I've got an army to come after me when I screw up. Badly. Are _you _okay?"

Veronica laughed through her tears. "It is so wrong that you're asking me that right now."

"Someone has to," Jughead shrugged, eyeing her with concern.

Veronica's tears flowed faster, and Archie put an arm around her and gave her a worried look.

"Well, I think we have just about used up our five minutes," Veronica wiped her eyes and tried to get her emotions back under control. "We'll, uh, watch the door for you."

Archie shot Jughead a quick grin and thumbs-up over his shoulder as they ducked out of the room.

"That was… subtle," Jughead smirked.

"Jug-," Betty suddenly felt like crying again.

"I won't do it again, Betty. I'm so sorry you had to - all of that. Brand told me-," Jughead decided not to get into it and just opened his arms again. This time he scooted toward Trigger to make room on the small mattress, ignoring the way it felt like every bone and muscle in his body was making itself known - and heard - as he did so. "Come on, Trig, just a few more inches. Be a wingman for me, huh?"

Betty laughed and wiped her eyes before the tears could begin to fall.

Jughead was starting to feel slightly dizzy, but he kept his arms open in an invitation. "I hear we have five minutes. We have way too much to talk about, but that sounds like the right amount of time for this." His expression suddenly became painfully uncertain. "Unless-,"

"Are you sure it's okay?" Betty stepped toward the bed, but eyed his IV nervously.

"Well… I do need as much body heat as I can get," Jughead made a mock-woeful face. "And, unfortunately, you seem to be the only one in the room." Trigger whined at the sudden lack of attention. "Shut up, Trigger. You'll make that sound like a line."

Betty laughed again and now she climbed into the tiny space on the edge of the crowded hospital bed, with her back to Jughead. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his shoulders relax once again, and closed his eyes.

Jughead wished he didn't think of his dad when he smelled her hair. After a moment, though, he wasn't thinking of FP any longer.

The door popped open a crack.

"Hey guys, the feds are here!" Archie hissed.

"Put a sock on the door," Jughead hissed back. Trigger dug his muzzle into Jughead's hair, making his neck light up with pain once again, and then licked his ear - and he was far too close when he let out a piercing whine.

"Jughead?" Betty spoke.

"Yeah?"

"This is nice."

"You are easily impressed," Jughead grinned. "Lucky for me."

"I'm going to get up now," Betty said.

"I know," Jughead spoke against the back of her neck.

"Right now."

"Mm-hm."

This time they both closed their eyes.

The door swung all the way open then.

"Handcuffs," Brand intoned. "Don't leave home without 'em."

"I might just have to invest." FP took in the scene. Betty was standing up now, and she looked a whole lot more embarrassed than Jughead did. "Unbelievable. I'm gonna be real generous and just take this as a sign that you're ready to talk to the cops, boy. You've got some friends from the FBI here, too, so I'm going to need Trigger gone."

"Need me to take him?" Brand offered.

"Archie got him in; he can get him back out. We've had a little trouble with the FBI," FP regarded Brandon with new interest. "Exactly how much jurisdiction do you have in the States?"

**00000**

Jughead spent the night in the hospital. Brand stuck around with FP, and they each claimed a chair in the room for the night.

Brand could hear that Jones wasn't able to fall asleep, and eventually he could tell when the kid realized that Brand was awake as well. Jones seemed able to read his breathing.

It had to be well after midnight and none of them had slept much the previous night - but there was unfinished business between them.

"How did you get rid of the FBI?" Jones asked Brand quietly. His father was snoring lightly and Brand figured they'd be able to tell right away if he woke up.

"I promised to torture you to get all of your secrets. Which actually seems unnecessary right now, what with you tearing yourself to pieces trying to feel up your girl and play with your dog." Brand shot him a look, but wasn't sure he could be seen in the dark room. "You want to know what the FBI said about that?"

Jones sighed. "That I was a hardened case and you shouldn't bother trying?"

"Russell's a piece of work, kid." The agent hadn't shown up at the hospital, but that was clearly who he was talking about.

"He threatened to bring charges against my dad and Mr. Andrews. He said he could lock me up forever if he pulled some strings."

"I know."

"Do you know about Agent Donn?" Jones was apparently realizing that he might finally be able to get some answers about what had gone so terribly wrong during his debriefing.

"I have an idea." Brand knew. Donn was the only reason he hadn't had Russell ejected instantly from the debriefing when he'd somehow wormed his slimy self back into position after Brand had blackballed him from the original debrief team. Not that Donn had ended up being a huge amount of help. "What did Donn do?"

"He was going to kill me," Jones said darkly.

Brand straightened up in his chair. "Run that by me one more time?"

"I took a nap during a break between some of the sessions. I guess they decided to just let me sleep, and... I started talking. Russell said so, anyway," Jughead had spent enough time thinking about this afterwards to decide that he didn't believe much of what Russell had claimed. "And I said something I shouldn't have. So he tried to extend the debriefing so that he could mess with me some more. Record me sleeping." Jughead had not managed to stay awake for the entirety of his final days of debriefing, but he'd come very close.

Brand sighed. The kid was loud in his sleep, it was true, but it was usually unintelligible. Not to mention entirely inadmissible as evidence. That would have been one lucky guess, though, if Russell had come up with Rose's name in a vacuum. Jones had probably been understandable enough that Russell got that much - and probably nothing other than the name. Which was thankfully also a common word.

"What did you say?"

"I-," Jughead recalled it vividly. "I said I talk in my sleep all the time. I was sorry if it had been inappropriate. Not G-rated. Whatever."

Brand smiled in the darkness. "Did Donn step in then?"

"Oh yeah," Jones' tone darkened again. "He got in my face and said I'd better think long and hard about my loyalties - because I wouldn't be worth much if I went to prison. If I came out with a record."

Brand inhaled sharply.

"I was just- I was thinking what to say- and when I started trying to make something up, he reached for his gun. Russell didn't see, and it was away from the camera, but-,"

Brand rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

"So I stopped."

"And you kept your mouth shut. For days." Brand's mind was racing. Jones was fully capable of misinterpreting events. But there was one reason he was pretty sure the kid was correct: this was not the story he'd been told.

Maybe there was more than one reason why Brand had not been allowed to contact Jones.

"He wouldn't have shot me there, Brand," The kid's voice was choking up a little. "I know he couldn't have done that, but- he didn't want me to talk. He really was going to kill me if I did. Russell was going to throw away the key if I _didn't_ talk. It was all messed up and I didn't know what to do."

"I bet you didn't," Brand wasn't so sure he knew what to do now. Not with this new information on the table. "That was a good move, though. Did Donn back off after that?"

"No," His voice was agonized now. "He was there pretty much the whole time, until Archie's mom got me out."

"To make sure you didn't talk. About anything, lies or truth," Brand mused.

"Yeah," Jones shifted restlessly on the bed. "He would… pat my face. Like he was trying to make me feel better. Most people didn't touch me during debrief, but he-"

This was making Brand's skin crawl. "Jones, if you ever see him again, you stay clear. Don't let him touch you. That's… that's not a person you-," Brand stopped. There was a bounty on the information in the kid's head. He wouldn't make that bounty any bigger. "Just scream like hell, okay?"

The kid laughed quietly. God love him, he could still find humor in all of this.

Brand wouldn't be laughing about this anytime soon. It was sounding as though Rose had either devised a much higher-octane test for Jones than he was admitting, or he'd already decided to cut bait - and in either case, he'd been lying to Brand for weeks.

Which meant it might not just be Jones' continued survival that was on the line.

The kid had managed to keep himself alive in debrief, though, and that was something. It wasn't everything, but it meant that Brand had information. Information that Rose didn't know he had.

That would have to be enough for now.

**00000**

When Jughead and FP got home late the next day, they were both too tired to do much of anything other than eat cold cereal and feed Trigger some leftovers from the refrigerator. They hadn't made a decision about the dog, and FP didn't think the custody police would approve, but he was staying with them for the time being.

The pile of boxes was looming in the background when they went to bed.

Brandon was staying at a hotel nearby and had promised to drop by the next day for lunch so that they could discuss setting up a joint interview.

FP was not looking forward to explaining to Jughead why they thought that was necessary: the fact that the media coverage had been so messy and so much of it overwhelmingly negative when it came to Jughead's role in the 'undercover work' and the 'bust.' He figured Jughead could handle it, though.

It suddenly looked like he could handle just about anything, though FP wasn't sure how long that was going to last.

He'd love for it to be forever.

He'd accept even just a day or two, though. Jughead deserved a break, and thankfully Brandon had bought him one of those from the FBI with a few firm 'suggestions' that he'd personally oversee the first round of discussions with Jughead about the circumstances with the drug dealers.

Jughead's nightly screaming had transitioned to being intermittent back when Archie had the flu, but FP had figured they were in for a hair-raiser when they got back from the hospital. However, against all odds, it was quiet enough when he awoke out of habit around three am that FP crept to the doorway of Jughead's room just to make sure he was still there.

And still breathing.

"You okay, Dad?" Jughead whispered, even though they were alone in the house.

"I'm fine," FP whispered back. "Just making sure you don't have Betty in here. Or Trigger."

"Yeah, no," Jughead stopped whispering now. "He's a bed hog."

"Oh, yeah?" FP came into the room then and sat on the foot of Jughead's bed. "He takes after you in more ways than one, then."

They were silent for a few moments.

"I'm really sorry, dad," Jughead blurted out the non sequitur. He hadn't been able to sleep, thinking about what he'd said before FP had left for DC two days earlier.

"You're gonna have to narrow that down, Jug," FP smiled into the darkness since he didn't think his expression could be seen. He didn't want Jughead to think he wasn't taking him seriously, but it had become amusing to hear all of the things he felt the need to apologize for in the hospital, and then at home. It might also be amusing in part because the apologies seemed to irritate Brandon immensely. It just figured that Davies would not be big on apologizing.

FP made sure that the smile wasn't audible in his voice. "What are you sorry about this time?"

"You're... nothing like Jameson," Jughead sighed deeply. "I- there was kind of a- it's complicated, and I'm not sure what I can tell you, but there was… a fight. Over me."

FP's eyebrows shot up. If this was not the 'Jughead's cover was blown' torture incident from a _very_ different angle, then this was entirely new information - and he could not begin to figure out where it fit into the vague timeline he'd been given.

"Everyone wanted me, but they didn't really want _me_. Not... the way I want Trigger."

The first of many bids, FP was certain, to keep the dog.

"And then, once nobody… _wanted_ me anymore-" FP stayed silent, but he felt his facial expression shift and was glad it was dark. He sincerely hoped this was the torture incident; it sounded awfully disturbing even with approximately zero details, and he _really_ didn't want there to be any more disturbing incidents that Jughead had needed to survive "-well, I thought nobody wanted _me_ anymore." Jughead sighed. "Yeah, never mind. That doesn't even make sense. I'm just really sorry that I accused you of being like Jameson."

FP considered this new information carefully. There might be quite a few people included in that 'everyone' Jughead had mentioned. "Jughead… do you think that Brandon wants you the way you want Trigger?"

Jughead was silent in the dark room.

FP tried again. "Does he treat you the way you want Trigger to be treated?"

"Mostly," Jughead spoke reluctantly now.

"Okay," FP figured that was a good start. It was an opening. "But you think that _I_ want you the way you want Trigger?"

"No," Jughead's voice was firm.

"Huh," FP was surprised, but he figured this was what he got for not being there first when Jughead was trapped and drowning. He could live with that. He'd have to. It was infinitely better than losing Jughead, so FP would take that trade willingly enough.

It still hurt, though.

"I… kind of get why I want Trigger. He's great once you get to know him. But I don't know why you want me around." Jughead paused to consider his own words. "And I know _you_ don't always know why you want me around either. But you still do, even then."

FP absorbed that. After everything, apparently he _did_ rate above the great Brandon Davies.

"Jug... I know why I want you around," FP laid a hand on Jughead's shin where he could feel it through the blankets. "You and I need more time, but eventually I hope you'll know why, too."

"Okay," Jughead said quietly.

FP patted Jughead's leg and got up to head back to bed. "Get some sleep. Be here in the morning, okay?"

"I will," Jughead adjusted his heavy covers and shivered. He was still chilled, and nothing seemed to reach the cold inside of him. He'd been told it might be a few more days of that feeling, and that already sounded like an eternity. "I promise."

FP went back to bed, but didn't close the door to Jughead's room or the door to his own.

**00000**

Sitting down with Brand turned out to be less awkward than anyone expected.

Trigger probably had something to do with that.

Jughead and FP had spent the morning cleaning up the boxes from the living room and picking out a couch at a furniture store. They were still tired from the weekend and its fallout, and FP was not looking forward to returning to work, or Jughead to school, but they managed to get some pizza and to be more or less ready for Brand's arrival.

Then they spent a while talking about which interviewers would be the best fit for Jughead.

"So in that case we'd get a little more time and space, but I'm not sure that's the best interview style for you," Brand was explaining to Jughead.

"Okay," Jughead was getting bored and distracting himself with Trigger.

"Hey, kid - you need to focus," Brand reached for Jughead's face to redirect his attention.

FP cleared his throat.

"Please." Brand dropped his hand.

Jughead looked from Brand to FP, confused by their interaction. He decided to ignore it when he saw that Trig had retrieved the tennis ball again. Jughead winged it toward the stairs, mindful of his sore neck and shoulders and the fact that he'd taken muscle relaxers that might mask the pain of any damage he did. He was motivated, though: he wanted to see Trigger try to figure out what to do as the ball bounced back down the steps.

"Brand-," Jughead suddenly remembered that he'd been meaning to tease his godfather. "After you go back to Canada, will you keep mailing me fortunes?"

"_What_?" So far FP had been watchful, but he'd maintained a calm and measured demeanor since Brand had arrived for lunch. Now he suddenly looked murderous.

"Hold on, FP. I don't know anything about-" Brand's eyes suddenly narrowed. Had someone been impersonating him? "Jones, bring whatever you're talking about down to the kitchen. Let's take a look at it together."

FP folded his arms while Jughead headed up to his bedroom.

"Still have the note with my phone number?" Brand figured that was likely to be the easiest way to sort this out.

"In my bag," FP went to retrieve it, frowning.

A couple of minutes later they were standing over an assortment of notes on identical card stock, with the same handwriting. It did not match Brandon's.

"Jones," Brand's voice was deeply concerned. "I don't do fortune cookie. And that is not what we have here."

"You've been saving threatening letters in a shoebox," FP ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "Brandon, I blame you for this."

"Have any arrived since you moved?" Brand flipped over one of the envelopes to investigate it.

"No. But... we actually haven't been getting the mail since we moved. It's only been a few days," Jughead's eyes were big. "You really didn't send these, Brand?"

"Nope," Brand shook his head. "But we're going to find out who did. Some of this is detailed stuff."

"Yeah, we'll be putting a stop to this right now." FP picked one up. "How flexible is your work location, Brandon?"

Brand looked startled. "I can telecommute for a while. They've got me on paperwork for the foreseeable future for all of the obvious reasons. You really want that?"

"Let's consider it," FP looked over the notes again.

Jughead looked from one to the other. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing - or a very bad thing.

Brand brushed a hand over his shoulder very lightly. "You look worried. Think we'll cramp your style with Betty?"

"You'd better not be thinking about that," FP's eyebrows lowered. "This is serious."

"I said nothing," Jughead put his hands up as if to prove his innocence. Then inspiration struck. "But maybe you two ought to think this through and have some long conversations before you do anything crazy. Because even the hospital discharge papers raise some questions about my paternity."

Jughead smirked when Brand got up to retrieve the paperwork, FP right behind him.

"That's not funny," FP glared once he'd confirmed that the paperwork indicated no such thing.

"You had to look," Jughead shrugged, still smirking. "That's all I'm saying."

Brand and FP exchanged a glance. "You know, I never _really_ found out if the kid's ticklish."

"He is," FP confirmed. "Let's wait for him to heal up a little more, though."

Jughead looked from one to the other.

Crap. He couldn't tell if they were kidding.

It was possible that he'd started something he couldn't finish.

**00000**

**The end... until next time.**

**00000**

**And that's a wrap!**

**I could not have been more meta with that last line if I'd set out to do it. And I did not. Pinky swear! In fact, I set out to write a very different story, of which Debrief Is A Verb is approximately... the first half. Rather than write the companion piece and titling it Debrief Is Also A Noun (because it makes me laugh too much, which means that is a terrible and confusing idea better left here to die), I'll direct you to the story that probably should have been a sequel in my head from the word go (and yes, we are just WAY lucky that the prologue scene ended up being in Debrief, yikes... lesson learned...), but - well - my eyes were too big for the story. **

**So: story four is called You Can't Hurry Trust, and if you're reading this it's either live already or going to be live as soon as FF gets over its shock and processes chapter one. And yes, I know that title is probably meaner still since everyone will no doubt be humming throughout. ;) **

**BTW, Living Lucid Dream, if this has been a threequel, what is a fourth story called? ;)**

**If you drop a review, feel free to tell me I'm crazy as long as you let me know that you're still reading! August means changes for everyone (we're all affected by the calendar), so it miiiiight soon be the end of my era of insanely prolific writing, but that's a matter of degree. I'm not planning to go anywhere just yet. :)**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Button**


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